


Best regards from hell.

by Skadia



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Badass Q, Bond has nightmares, Bond loves cats and things that explode, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Nightmares, Q has panic attacks, Torture, demisexual Q, mention of suicide, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skadia/pseuds/Skadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the MI6 hired Q, they made sure he was not a threat for them or England. When he became Quartermaster, they made sure he was not a liability either. <br/>Through his relationship to James Bond, Q'll learn that loyalty comes at a price, and how much it cost to love your country more than anything or anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Litany

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could definitely use a beta reader since english is not my native language, but I tried my best to make it enjoyable anyway...

Monneypenny once joked that Q's title should be "Quatromaster" instead of "Quartermaster".

"It makes it look like you're a master at a quarter of what you do. And I'm quite sure you're a master on four diferent fields. At least."

"Flatery will get you everywhere Eve." He had smiled.

"The only thing I want right now is no international crisis during my next vacations."

"I'm afraid you're bribing the wrong person then. If I'm a master at something it's clearly not the extinction of international crisis. But I can hide weapons in your favorite shoes if you want."

And that's how he spent ten lovely days hiding various pieces of weaponry in various pieces of feminine outfit including a bra that was (Q's words) a fucking pain in the ass to work on, and a fucking pain in the ass to wear (Eve's words).

But Eve was right, he mastered in a lot of fields and one of them was gathering informations and use them. And one thing he learned about field agents (even retired ones like Eve) was their love for weapons.

He hold the exploding pen in front of 007 two weeks later. It was a classic piece, something even a new intern could create and Bond did not flinch, only smirked a little.

"Finally decided to indulge me?"

"Not quite."

Q aimed at the target behind Bond. He was not a show off and very few people knew about his skills at throwing various things. He did not know if it was his tolerable aim or the explosion that made the agent react, but he smiled and Q knew he was hooked. The target was completely destroyed and Bond humed apreciatively.

"You bring back 20 intact items to R&D and I give you one of these." Said Q holding another pen.

"You must be joking!"

"I assure you that I am not."

Bond had an amused smirk. "Twenty is it?"

"Twenty, if you can manage."

"I will."

##

Weeks later, Monneypenny can't stop laughing at the gun curently framed in Q's office.

"You went through all the pain of filling a report so you could keep it ?"

"And I'll do it everytime 007 manages to bring back any piece of equipment intact. He will retire long before I get tired of it."Q smiles. "Anyway, R&D already improved it, this one is old now."

"Mallory will love to hear about it."

"Be my guest and tell him." Q sits at his desk smiling at the woman still watching the gun on the wall. "Anything to give the boss leverage over Bond."

"No one has leverage over Bond. That's why he's so good at what he does."

Q nods.

"We're lucky he's on our team then."

"I wouldn't call it luck."

It is in fact no luck that Bond is on their team. More time than not, it is a hazardous parameter in a well planned mission. A parameter prone to blow up things and crash cars and terminate potential indics. A parameter that means a lot of paperwork for Q and even more grey hair for M.

 

"I should have tried that a long time ago." Q says watching his screen, careful of Bonds progress in the building somewhere in eastern Europe. "You really want that pen."

"You should start to worry about what you'll use to bribe me next." Says the agent voice in the coms. "I'm at fifteen."

"There's a lot of things I can use to bribe you 007. Fast cars, fine alcohols, food..."

"You cook quartermaster?"

Q can hear the smile in Bond's voice.

"My mother does. Her cheese souflé is to die for. Turn left."

"That good?" The agent asks cheerfully while the red dot locating him makes a  previsible right turn on Q's screen.

"I should use reverse psychology on you Bond. And no. The souflé is actually lethal. My father once hit a burglar with some leftovers and the guy had a mild concussion."

Bond chuckles in his hearpiece and the red dot on the screen manages to make it into the safe room Q was leading him to.

There's a small "thump" and then " target terminated."

"Get to the extraction point, look out for the dogs."

"Already took care of them."

"Not the two coming your way." Q smiles.

A rustle of air in the coms and a sigh. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Aparently, Bond found the two pomeranian barking into the target bedroom.

"Let me have my fun once in a while Bond!"

The banter following an easy and successfull mission goes on while Bond reaches his extraction point. Neither of them really care that it is recorded or transcripted for MI6 archives.

"So, you an only child Q?"

"I do have a sister. The only person in the world who can digest my mother's food."

"Bet she would make a good field agent."

"Trust me I tried to make her apply. But she finds herself really happy in her deskjob."

Bond leans on the seat of the slick black car that just picked him up and close his eyes. "I'm not blaming her right now."

"Medics will wait for you as soon as you get back, and then M wants a quick debrief."

Bond nods, not caring that Q can't see him.

"Good work agent."

"Thanks Q."

 

Sometimes it's enough to keep the litany at bay. Sometimes it's not and Q has to call it a day early. The litany follows him on the tube, creeping slowly from his chest to his troat, into his apartment, squeezing his brain in an endless song that's never the same tune. It drowns the meows of the cats and the white noise of the shower. And Q stands under the water untill his mind is blank, only repeating the litany that is now the only thing in his head.

\- - - - - -

_Break. Breaking and entering. Break my heart. Break a leg. Springbreak. Give me a break. Break broke, broken. There's a car called a break. The breaks of a car. Dancing on broken glass._

_Break._

_Break._

\- - - - - - -

It's never the same word that his mind focuses on. And it makes it all the more scary. He shivers as the water turns cold. He feed the cats, the words still in his mind and he knows he'll get no sleep tonight.

That's part of why he's so good at what he does. Why he's so good at understanding the needs of double oh agents. He knows what it's like when your brain will not allow you to sleep. He knows that nightmares are sometimes the best part of the night.

And even the purring of the cats can't stop the litany in is head.

_Break, break ..._

 

##

Bond brings in his sixteenth and seventeenth intact items. He's not as bruised as usual and Q feels a sense of acomplishment as if he had a part to play in Bond's relative well being.

"You look tired."

"I am. Thank you for bringing back your equipment double oh seven."

Bond smirks.

"How much do I have to bring back in one piece to get a new Aston Martin?"

"A thousand probably." Q says dryly.

Bond only smiles a little more. Like he got Q exactly where he wanted him and the quartermaster raises his eyebrows. The agent is crowding him against his desk now, well aware that he got himself in Q's personal space and grinning like a mad man.

"How many for a dinner with you?"

Q feels it. The rush of adrenaline when Bond looks at him. These eyes should be able to kill. Everything else in this man is trained to kill. He feels exactly what Bond expects from him. Surprise, desire, fear.

And Q grins because Bond really believes this will work on him. He holds a single finger agains Bond's chest and pushes him away. The agent doesn't resist.

"Way more than you can manage within your lifespan."

Bond takes one step back, his smile is gone, hiden in his eyes and it takes all of Q's willpower not to laugh at that. He got Bond exactly where he wanted him and the agent does not even know it.

Q is good at gathering intels. He's even better at using them. And most of all, he's bloody perfect when it comes to know what people want or need.

And Bond wants a challenge. He wants the wit, the armrace against someone who is not afraid of him, against someone who will never be a threat. And if this is what it takes to bring him back alive a little more longer, to force him to be just a little less reckless, then Q is ready to oblige.

##

"You play a dangerous game Q." Says Monneypenny. "Did you read his file?"

Q nods and take a sip of the drink she ordered for him, it's sweet and bright yellow and damn delicious.

"I memorized it."

"So you know what happened. With Le Chiffre and Vesper."

Q nods again.

"You're fooling him. You're manipulating him and when he'll realize..."

"He won't unless you tell him." Q spats. "I'm not trying to use him or betray him. I'm barely doing my job and keeping him alive."

Her expression softens, gets almost sad.

"But he'll die eventually. Field agents die young and Bond is already the longest surviving agent of MI6."

"No one is gonna die. Not on my watch."

He knows he sounds like a bitter child, but can't help it.

"I'm not worried about the agents sweetie..."

No one is allowed to give pet names to Q. Only her.

"I'm worried about you. About what will happen to you when you'll fail at saving them everytime."

"I don't fail Eve."

This time she truly looks sad. They both know he's lying to himself. He already failed. More than once and they both know it. That's why he wants so badly to save every agent, every time. Why he works so hard, why he forgets to take care of himself because he has to take care of everyone else. He refuses to fail again.

This time, it's Eve's manicured hand that keeps the litany at bay. Her thumb traces uneven patterns on his wrist, soothe him, calms him. From the outside they might look like and odd couple but it's not that. She's the only one he dares to call a friend. The only one he knows from work who kept her soul and humanity intact, and he craves that like he craves anything that might remind him that something in this world is worth saving.

They end up on his couch, eating popcorn, watching blockbusters and he dozes off on her shoulder. He sleeps like an exhausted kid and when he wakes up, with a dry throat and a cat on his lap, she's gone.

##

It takes him a few months, but Q eventually realises that Monneypenny was right. Keeping his agents alive comes with a cost that Q is not prepared to pay. He grew attached to them in general and to Bond in particular. Because Bond doesn't care about his life, he's the most reckless, the most dangerous and so the hardest to keep alive of all the double oh program.

And Bond is the best at what he does, and a bloody workaholic which means he's the one with who Q spends most of his time through their coms. So he's the one Q feels closer to.

Missions take the agent to exotics parts of the world, a few timezones away from London and Q finds himself awake at odd hours of the day or night, guiding Bond through security checks, making sure nothing too bad happens to him.

"Don't you ever sleep Q?"

"I do when international terrorism takes a vacation."

"Your partner must be thrilled."

Q chuckles. "Interesting choice of word double oh seven. Do you really think I'd fall for this kind of trick and tell you about my relationship status?"

"A man can hope."

The coms goes off while Bond showers and get to bed and Q uses the time to browse through the files the agent retrived from a harddrive belonging to some drug lord. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the agent's voice again.

"Would it work if I ask the question directly?"

"A man can hope." Q says.

His office is the only one with the light on, everyone else is home right now, and Q is still here, working, keeping company to an agent half a world away.

"Is there someone in your life Q? Someone to come home to?"

"Only two cats. Two starved cats actually." Q smiles.

"Cats always pretend they are starving."

Q nods even if Bond can't see him.

"You should go out, find someone."

"Thank you for this unwanted piece of advice." Q spats. He doesn't like when people tell him how to live his life. That's usually his job. "Shall I point out that you too should find yourself someone to come home to? It would make my work way easier if you actually had a good reason to come back in one piece from your missions."

There's a moment of silence at the end of the line then a sight.

"You've read my file. You know why I can't nor want to find someone."

Q doesn't answer. Mostly because he's busy sending the files to M. So Bond goes on. He's probably in bed now, watching at the pillow or the ceiling, talking to seemingly no one. "It was a hard learned lesson to trust no one. It's something they should make sure the new recruits know, way before showing them how to shoot a gun. You belong to the country, and all the enemies your country has are now your enemies. And whoever is not your enemy is a target, a liability."

"You have good arguments." Says Q sipping his tea that has gone lukewarm. "But they're all rubish."

"They can't be good and rubish at the same time."

"They're good but irrelevant."

"Q..." Bond sighs, "In my line of work..."

"I know your line of work double oh seven. May I remind you that my work is to make sure you come back alive? And God knows I'm not paid enough for the trouble you give me everytime!"

Bond smiles. For the first time this week he sleeps in clean sheets, in a soft bed that hurt his back only because he has some impressive bruises there. He's at peace, mostly because of exhaustion.

Maybe he's tired enough that the nightmare won't come tonight.

"Talk to me Q." He asks. He doesn't know how he sounds to the quartermaster's hears, and he couldn't care less.

"Shall I sing you a lullaby?"

"Suit yourself."

There's no lullaby. Only Q ranting about tech, equipments, stuff, cats, more stuff. Bond drift to sleep and for tonight , the quartermaster's voice is enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

##

Nine hundred persons dead in one day. And Q is sick. Too sick to be helpful, too sick to even stand away from his bahroom where he's been vomiting blood for the last half hour.

Medics at MI6 take care of him. Him and M and Monneypenny and actually half the employees here. It's like a war has been declared and none of them were warned. They all have the same symptoms and Q might be dizzy and not exactly an expert in the medical field, he knows an intoxication when he sees one.

What's the common point ?

What did they all ingest that put them in this state ?

He's not the one who finds the answer. It's actually one girl he never saw who mutters behind clenched teeth something about a bloody disgusting tea.

Tea.

Nausea takes him again and he painfully tries to vomit his own stomach but nothing except saliva comes out.

The tea.

Six hours later, he's better. Mostly because he's so fueled with rage that he could destroy everything he touches with his bare hands.

The litany is back, but this time, it does not stop him. It actually emphasize his anger and determination.

"I swear to God and the Queen I'll find him, and I know when a trigger has to be pulled !"

Nex to him, Bond smiles and Tanner nods.

With half of MI6 still ill, Tanner is the one that Mallory trusts enough to let him lead the operations while he's recovering. The chief of staff only drinks bottled water and from now on will probably never ever drink tap water again.

Bond, as usual has been running on Grey Goose vodka since his last mission.

\- - - - -

_Tea. Tea party. Not my cup of tea. Tea tree. Tea time...._

\- - - - - -

 

The modus operandi is so simple it makes Q cringe.

A generic poison effective for ten hours simply thrown in one of the bigest drinking water reserve of London. CCTV doesn't help him a lot to identify who's responsible. But tracking the poison bought on Internet is simple.

It takes him under an hour to get a name, then an adress and it's probably not that simple but it's a start.

Bond goes to the location Q gave him. With his Walter and cufflinks that hide tiny recorders, and an order from Tanner to only gather informations and bring back the criminal alive.

Q is exhausted, that's probably why he nearly misses the gasp in the comms when Bond finds the suspect. But the fear in said suspect voice is unmistakable.

Tanner looks at him quizzically and Q shrugs. He's silent at his end of the line, listening to sobbering confessions that Bond obtained without any violence.

Something is wrong.

 

\- - - - -

_Tea. Not my cup of tea. Tea for two at two forty. Teaspoon._

\- - - - - -

 

"It was just a kid."

Bond looks as tired as Q feels. And sad.

The agent leans on Q's office door, arms crossed, head lowered.

Q nods.

No international terrorism. Nine hundred dead and counting. All of that for a teenager who poisonned half of London, just because... just because he could and it was easy.

"It's so stupid." Q sighs taking down his glasses. He leans on his seat, the light in the coridor behind Bond hurts his eyes. "He'll spend the rest of his life in prison. Just because he was stupid and did not think of the consequences of his actions...Sometimes, I lose faith in humanity."

Bond smirks.

"I lost mine a long time ago. Nice to see you still believe in unicorns and Father Christmas."

"Don't sass me Bond. I nearly died today and I don't mind doing it again by throwing something at you."

\- - - - - -

_Tea. Black tea. Darjeeling. Green tea. Pour me some tea._

\- - - - - -

"Have dinner with me." Bond says.

It's not a request, not an order. Q has no idea how he should take the offer. Should he be offended at Bond lack of courtesy, or turned on by his self-assurance...

"Please. I had a bad day too."

Bond never asks for anything. At least not for something as trivial as dinner. And Q never heard him saying he had a bad day. Even when he was shot... He has a repport to write, cats to feed, things to do... But he nods, takes his jacket from the back of his chair and follows Bond in the empty hallway, in a cab, then in front of a posh restaurant that the agent probably chose out of habit. The street is almost empty, the restaurant brightly lit but there's no one inside.

"It's not exactly a day for caviar and champain." Says Q. "People died today."

"People die all the time."

"Yes." Q shivers and wraps himself more closely in his jacket. "But dining here... feels like a celebration. It would be quite obscene don't you think?"

Bond nods, eyes glued to the empty dining room.

"Where then?"

They end up in a tiny little pizzeria where most patrons don't speak english. The beer is lukewarm, the air smells like bread and the closeness to other people triggers Bond's defensive reflexes.

All the jugs are carefully lined on the counter and they get bottled water from their server without asking for it.

"Thanks for coming in tonight. Have you decided on what you want to eat?"

It's a young guy, barely older than the one Bond arested this morning, pale, with big dark circles under his eyes. Q orders while Bond scans the server looking for potential threats but there is none. Just a tired and shocked young man.

The beer tastes like piss but it slowly does the trick, distangle the knot in Q's stomach, and the litany about tea in his head is just a little less loud by the time his pizza arrive.

They drink a chianty that Bond has the taste not to complain about. They eat. They talk. They talk about anything except what happened today. It's everywhere on the news, in the streets, on the faces of people around them and they don't want to be reminded of that.

Bond is surprisingly suave, smart and overall a pleasant company, and maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's aftershock, but Q feels more and more at ease with him. They share memories of Boothroyd, Bond talks about places he has seen. It's a pleasant evening depite the circumstances.

Then it's time to go home and the litany strikes Q like a punch in the guts, his stomach twists and he makes a bad job at hiding it from Bond.

"Sober enough to get home by yourself or should I escort you?"

"If I'm not sober enough to find my flat, I'm not sober enough for anything you may have in mind Bond."

The agent smiles. But it's nothing happy. It's mostly a way to cancel his concern.

"Tanner took Monneypenny home, Mallory is still in med unit, I just want to be sure you get home safe."

"I'm fine."

But Bond doesn't move, just make a gesture to a cab that stops net to them and gently pushes Q on the backseat.

"I said I'm fine."

"I heard you. Consider it's just a way for me to meet your cats."

"They won't like you." Q grumbles.

It's a lie. Well, half a lie. Tesla loves everyone, she enjoys people who feed her even more. When they get into Q's flat, she's by the door, purring as loudly as she can and immediately starts to leave grey fur on Bond's impeccable black slacks. Volta is nowhere to be seen, as usual.

"Didn't you say there was two of them?" Asks Bond bending to take the purring cat in his arms.

"This is Tesla, she loves being petted. Volta is shy and afraid of strangers, he'll come if he hears the fridge open." Says Q. He's tired, his eyes burn, his shoulders feels heavy and with Bond here, his flat seems a little less warm and safe.

He wonders what would be Bond's first impression of where he lives. Not that it has any importance but still. There's cat fur almost everywhere, empty unwashed dishes on the sink, not enough light and the numerous carpets are old and faded. Q keeps them because he hates the feeling of cold tiles under his feets, and the cats would ruin any nice carpet he could get.

But Bond says nothing, just pets the cat some more and head toward the fridge.

"Is it okay if I feed them while you shower? Then I'll show myself out."

Is it okay to let a killer pet and feed his cat ?

Q nods. The litany in his head is too loud now for him to form a coherent sentence.

It takes him too long to get undressed and have the water running. This same water that poisonned him and half of london twelve hours before. It's safe now. The poison had a short lifespan, but still. He's almost disappointed when the contact of the warm water doesn't kill him on the spot. It doesn't make him any good either.

His hands on the wet tiles, he starts to shiver violently, trying not to sob because there's someone else in the flat. Someone who never casually just enters someone intimate space without ulterior motive. And right now, Q can't deal with ulterior motives. He can't even deal with his own head.

\- - - - -

_Tea for two. Tea and scones. White tea. Blended teas. Tea..._

\- - - - --

"Hey..."

The low voice over the running shower almost makes him jump out of his skin and he chokes when his sharp intake of breath makes him inhale some water. When he's done coughing, Bond has turned the shower off and wraps him in a towel, leads him out of the cubicle and fetches another towel from the rack to scrub his scalp.

Q is naked and shivering, on the verge of a panic attack and James Bond is towelling him. He's too tired to even think of how embarassing this is but he knows the shame will strike him tomorrow. He already dreads it.

"What's wrong ?"

Q shakes his head. He doesn't want to explain, shouldn't have to.

"I'm fine."

There's long seconds of tensed silence then Bond asks again, softer this time: "What's wrong ?"

And Q answers. This might be one of Bond's superpowers, people answer his questions and Q is no exception.

"My head... Sometimes, I get words stuck in here, playing on repeat, over and over again. And I can't stop it, it gets so loud I can't even think of anything else it's..." He's babbling hysterically now, he can hear it over the rush of blood in his hears. His body spasmes and shakes and the words fall of his mouth as if nothing in the world could stop them.

Bond listens, or at least, doesn't interupt him as long as Q feels like talking. He doesn't comment, just lets the panic rush over Q and wait for it to pass. When Q wipes his eyes with a corner of his towel, the agent wraps an arm around his shoulders, careful not to touch any bare skin and leads him to the bedroom.

"You have pajamas?"

Q nods, he's almost blind without his glasses but as long as Bond is blurry in his line of vision, he can feel a little less ashamed of his own weakness. He retrive shorts and an old t shirt from a drawer and slips on them under his towel.

"Bed." Bond says. " This is not an invitation, you need to rest Q."

"I can't... When the words get stuck... I call it the litany, I can't sleep, it's too loud."

The bed is a mess, Q never cares enough to do it in the morning. Bond leads him to the most used pillow, the one with the stained pillowcase because Q drools at night. There is absolutely nothing sexual at all when he lays next to Q and wraps him fromhead to toes into the covers.

"You can leave, I'm fine." Says Q. He's thankfull but he has no idea how to tell Bond.

"No you're not."

Of course he's not, Q doesn't even remember why he bothers to lie anymore.

"I almost died today. I know it's nothing for you but..."

"It's a lot." Bond interupts. He settles on top of the covers, arms crossed over his chest. "Its a lot and you already have something on your plate. You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"Then that makes two of us."

The pillow is soft, the smell is comforting. The little movement of the matress when Tesla jumps into bed, her long fur under his hand.

"Can you talk? When you talk, the litany is not as loud."

"Shall I sing a lullaby to you?"

Bond is smirking, but even in the dim light coming by the ajar window, Q can see it's not moquery or anything that will make him ashamed in a few hours.

"I'd rather not... Nearly dying once a day is all I can take."

And Bond burst into laugher. Something genuinely happy and cheerfull and so misplaced like Q just told the best joke in the world. His laugh is like a punch (another one) in the guts, a bullet shot at the litany in Q's head and for a moment, he hears nothing except this odd laugher that scared the cat away.

"Nearly dead twelve hours ago and still a sarcastic little shit..."

Q smiles, he's on the verge of yawning now that the tension eased off his shoulders and his stomach.

"I'll tell M I spent too much time with double Oh agents. They're starting to have a bad influence on me."

Bond smiles, makes himself a little more comfortable against Q's spare pillows.

"Please don't. I'd miss you."

It's strange, misplaced, uncommon. Interpersonal relationships are one of Q's weakest spots. They're messy, he's not good at them. But this, this is okay. Being wrapped in his covers with Bond next to him is okay. Starting to doze off next to one of the most dangerous men of England feels okay.

For tonight, Bond's presence is enough to keep the litany at bay.

\- - - -

_Tea. Tea is a nice word..._

\- - - - - -

 

 


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond is sent undercover in a children trafficking organization and he has nightmares and everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning : This chapter mentions suicide and many forms of child abuses so if it's any trigger for you, skip it ( I'll include a complete and safe summary in the next chapter )
> 
> Also, this fic takes place after skyfall but conveniently does not take in account Spectre (because I'm a lazy ass and the only thing I remember from the movie is Q having two cats and a mortgage ... gon on and blame me XD)

They say that your body don't remember pain. You keep memory of the feeling, you know how unpleasant it is but you can't feel it again after the pain is gone.

James Bond doesn't care about what scientist may say, the pain is never gone. And his nightmares never got the memo about not remembering pain.

He knows the label that medical team would put on him if they knew about the nightmares (they must suspect it at least, Bond can give them that much credit). It's called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and probably all the double oh program has it. He could get help, talk about it, take medications... But he won't. By now, he's used to physical pain, and the nightmares can be drown in enough vodka. He can forget about it between the arms of the next willing person, preferably a beautiful woman. And when his mind is focused on his mission, all the rest disappears.

PTSD is a problem for later. For when he'll retire, for when nothing will be enough to dull the pain or forget the nightmares. By then, he'll probably be dead anyway.

He wakes from a nightmare, sweaty, heavy breathing, pain in his chest, in his back, in his head and it takes him a few seconds to recognize his flat, his silk sheets, the sounds of the street outside. A few more to stop breathing heavily and shake away the remains of pain in his body. It was just a nightmare. No one was drowning him.

Drowning is an awful experience no matter how good your training is.

It's four in the morning. Too late to try and fall aleep again. Is it too early for a Martini? Probably.

Coffee it is then.

Everyone in MI6 own these fancy machines that are supposed to brew a perfect coffee out of colorful capsules but Bond sticks to his old italian coffeepot and exotics blends bought in various parts of the world. The scent is pleasant, brings him back to reality. The beverage wakes him enough to plan his probably uneventfull day.

Morning finds him at a desk in the empty double oh section of the new MI6 building, filing long overdue reports. He's halfway through his pile and his third coffee when he gets an email asking him to get to M's office. This means mission, and a very welcome excuse to not finish these damn reports! But what he finds in Mallor'ys office is closer to WW3 than he expected.

"You can't do that !" Monnypenny yells facing her boss. "This is against every law I can think of! The prime minister won't allow it !"

"I get my orders from the prime minister, Eve!"

"It's Monneypenny for you now!" She hisses before turning on her heels almost bumping into Bond. "Oh great! Exactly the man we needed for this situation!"

"Am I interupting something?" Bond asks surprised by the rage in her eyes.

"Just make him understand what a despicable morron he's being !"

And with that, Eve is out the door, probably out of the building in minutes and Bond stares at Mallory, waiting for answers. M sits slowly and sighs.

"For the reccord, I don't like this more than Monneypenny does. But some things have to be done for the greater good you know..."

"I'm well aware of that." The agent replies with a little smile. "What got her so upset?"

M hands him a file that Bond opens without looking at it, mostly focused on his superior briefing.

"We've been gathering intels on an organization for a year now. It's child trafficking. At first we believed it was only orphans being sold to parents who couldn't go through the hassle of medically assisted procreation, but our last informations makes us think that it might be way worse."

Bond takes a quick look at the list and photos of missing children, a few headshots of men on the next pages of the file, Mallory waiting for him to scan the lists of locations, transactions, names.

"This girl... She went missing a year ago. Her face was plastered all over London..." Bond says holding a picture of a blonde girl who couldn't be more than nine years old. Mallory nods

"Her body was found weeks after."

"Heart missing."

"Kidneys too."

"Do we suspect an organ traffick?"

Mallory nods again, his hands crossed on his desk.

"That, and the number of knows pedophiles in this organization makes us also believe that the kids are not only sold to childless parents, or for organs."

Bond cringes. He actually does not care that much for children. But that does not mean he's okay with... whatever these ones have been endured.

"No wonder Monneypenny was so upset."

"Oh no, the upsetting part is yet to come. We need an intel from the inside of the organization, bringing back enough evidence of all their connections to dismantle them all. It means deep undercover and..."

"And working with them for months." Bond says through gritted teeth. "You're asking me to pimp children, to buy them and sell them. Is this what you're asking from me?"

Mallory nods. "My job isn't easy Bond. I'd give a lot not to have to ask that of you. But we have no better option. It's either playing their game a little then ending it, or sentence all these kids and many more to ..."

"I get it M. Someone's has to do the Queen's dirty work isn't it?"

"You can't fail this mission Bond."

The agent takes one last look at the pictures of the kids and nods.

"I won't. But Eve is right. You're a bloody morron."

"Trust me, I know."

 

##

 

"Oh, double oh seven, you're here to get fitted for your next mission I see." Q greets him two hours later.

The lab is buzzing with activity and he gestures to some minion to take over him in whatever he is curently coding. For Bond the interminable lines makes no sense at all but everyone in Q branch seems to understand this language. Q leads him to his office and hands him a simple looking blue USB key.

Bond raises his eyebrows, waiting for instructions. Q sighs.

"This mission needs you to go deep undercover, this USB keys holds a GPS locator that the organization will probably not be able to detect, and an informatic worm. If you can plug it for a few seconds on a laptop of the organization, we'll be able to hack into their system and end the operation quickly."

"Good to know."

Q nods. "We can't take the risk to send you there with a weapon. At the rate you lose them you would only give those criminals some top secret piece of weaponery."

Bond frowns. He's trained in every form of combat, but a gun is always a good protection. Not that he feels naked without it, since he has no problem being naked at all, but ... well almost everything feels safer with a gun in his hands.

"Although this, might prove usefull." Q says holding him a fine leather belt with a silver buckle.

"Interested in my fashion sense Q?" Bond teases.

"Hardly." Q presses on one of the rivets holding the bucle together and the top part slides open revealing an incredibly fine zipper running all the way through the belt that makes it able to hide a few things: various curencies and fake identity papers. Q smiles. " One of Boothroyd old ideas that I improved, I believe it's relevant for a fake smuggler."

"It is. Anything else?"

"Cellphone." Q says handing him a deliciously shiny smartphone. "It doesn't do anything besides the incredible capacity of these little things nowadays. But I think the organization will give you a new one and this one will be bugged and useless very soon. Might come in handy anyway."

Bond nods. It's small. It's strange to feel dependant on technology and a little lost without much of it. Or maybe it's juste because this mission makes him really uneasy.

"On a more personnal note, Tanner came to see me this morning. He wanted to make sure I was aware of the unspoken rule to not sleep with a coworker. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

Bond grins. "Probably that he want you to know that sleeping with a coworker is highly frowned upon?"

Q crosses his arms and leans on his desk, brows furrowed.

" Do you have anyhing to do with his sudden concern for my reputation?"

"Considering the fact that I indeed slept at your flat, and I have a reputation of my own, it's a safe assumption."

"Nothing happened."

"Tanner doesn't know that. And his concern is actually ..." Bond search the righ word for a few seconds. " Cute."

Q smiles and dismisses him.

"Good luck out there on the field 007"

Bond nods and heads toward the door, stopping just before exiting the office.

"Would it be a problem, if anything were to happen between us that would make Tanner even more concerned for your reputation?"

"Absolutely not." Q answers right away with a stern tone. "I manage my relationships and my reputation as I see fit."

Bond nods.

"Care for dinner tonight? It might be the last I spend in good company for a long time."

"Do they have caviar at that fancy place you showed me the other day ?"

"They do."

"Let's go there then." Q smiles at the quizzical look Bond gives him. " Your last diner in good company deserves caviar and I guess champain isn't it ?"

"Absolutely!"

An for a moment, Bond forgets about how uneasy he is about his next mission.

 

##

It takes Q three bites to decide that Beluga caviar is not his thing. But he likes blinis on their own which Bond finds odd but entertaining. They agreed not to speak about the upcoming mission, so Q settles for embarassing questions instead.

"Why did you invite me for dinner the last time ?"

Bond smiles, then he thinks about his answer because he actually never asked himself the question. Most of his decisions are made on impulse.

"I think I needed to let go of work for a moment, and I had to do that with someone I can trust. Not many people have this displeasure."

"Having your trust is more an honor than a displeasure." Q says. This is usually the point where things get flirty, especially with the way Q doesn't break eye contact with him as he brings his champain to his lips. But everything is quite casual actually, which makes Bond slightly uncomfortable. "So why? What did I do to deserve your trust ? It's not like it's something you give easily. And you trusted me during the Silva incident. You barely knew me."

Bond smirks.

"Back then I mostly trusted your wounded ego to want to take him down as much as I did after he hacked you."

Q nods. His ego still has not recovered from this rookie mistake and he learned the hard way to be humble about his work. Being presomptuous is what created the weakness in his system, and this is not going to happen a second time!

"I guess you never betrayed this trust and now I probably see you more like a friend than an asset. Hence the dinner last time."

Bond feels strangely vulnerable saying this under the scrutiny gaze of the quartermaster. He knows how to read people, but Q is hard to figure out. And he's not used to speak his mind so freely.

"That's a lot coming from you knowing how many trust issues you have since..." Q bite his lips before saying the name. Bond knows it's common knowledge by now and he's not young enough to still believe that Q hasn't read his file as did everyone in MI6. Still he grits his teeth.

"Her name was Vesper, and we won't talk about that bitch."

Q swallows, about to say something, then lowers his eyes on his hands now fidgetting with the silver cutlery.

"You loved her, and she betrayed you. Calling her names won't change what she did to you, and won't make you hurt less."

"Don't talk about things you know nothing about !" Bond is ready to leave the restaurant when Q raises his head to look him in the eyes. Behind his thick glasses he looks tired and upset.

"What makes you think I don't know what I'm talking about? It might come as a surprise, but other people than you actually have a life and bad memories!"

"Oh... precious little quartermaster had a hard life ?"

Bond hates the words that escaped his mouth, and his harsh tone, but Q shouldn't have bring Vesper in the conversation. They were having a good time and now...

"My partner took his own life on my birthday because he couldn't get over the fact that I was promoted Quartermaster instead of him. So yes, I know one thing or two about betrayal Bond." The green eyes gleam with fury now and Q is tensed, almost shaking on his seat. His anger is like waves coming out of his entire being and sudenly, Bond feels calm again.

"Care to share?" He asks quietly.

Q shakes his head but talks anyway.

"We met in kindergarden, grew up together, graduated from university as honor student together, got hired at MI6 together. We did everything together, we were the best team. Then Boothroyd died and someone had to be promoted Quartermaster. It was a tight between him and me. We decided that if our plan to be both Q failed, none of us would accept the position. I don't know what the old M saw in me that made her choose me. But she did, and I couldn't bring myself to say no. I could do so much more for my country and the world as Q than as an anonymous genius in R&D !"

"M was ... very persuasive."

Q nods. " She was. And I was either weak, or blinded by how important I thought I could be ... I said yes and Jonathan never forgave me. Ten years of love, twenty years of friensdship thrown away because I couldn't choose him over my work or my country. We broke up a few weeks after, he killed himself, end of the story."

Bond says nothing for a moment, sensing that Q is not done. This wound is even fresher that the one left by Vesper, and some pains needs to be relieved once in a while.

"Since then, I go by Q because whoever I was back then is dead now. Jonathan took with him all the life we had planned together. And I can't blame him even if I really want to. I'm the one who betrayed him. All I have left is my close family that my anonimity protects, and a country that thinks I can be an asset. I chose England over everything else that mattered for me, and it won't be for nothing."

Q puts back his fork with a sigh. " Sorry, I got carried away... Just so you know why I'll never give you my real name. And why I know what it means when the one you love is the one who shot you down."

Bond stays still for a moment, watching Q, slightly shocked.

"What else do I ignore about you?"

"Pretty much everything."

"We have a lot in common."

"We do." Q raises his glass, his hand a little shaky. "I swear to never talk about her again if you prefer. It would be an honor and a pleasure to be your friend 007"

Bond raises his own glass.

"To frienship then. And it's James from now on."

"To friendship. James."

They drink in silence.

##

Eighty percent of field work is waiting fort the twenty percent where all hell break loose. Working undercover means that Bond has plenty of time to go over his fake identity over and over again, perfecting the lie that would keep him alive. He got hired as a security agent for The Boss three weeks ago and that already feels like three months.

The work is not exhausting even if it requires him at odd hours of the day or night, keeping an eye on The Boss during all of his transactions. Half of them ( and that's a relief) are couples, acting tough but being actually scared as hell, looking for a kid that the adoption system denies them. The other half, however, will haunt Bond in his next nightmares (they already do). The kids learn fast to cry without a sound and this already breaks Bond's soul. Last time he saw a kid cry, with just tears rolling down his cheeks, not even snorting, he was eleven and his parents had just died.

\- - - - - - -

_The little face in the mirror looks at him, all puffy, red eyes with dark circles underneath and pale skin._

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

_But he cries and cries and cries untill there's nothing left of him, untill he collapses on the bathroom tile and Aunt Charmain tucks him to bed._

_Unless this time there is no bed to be tucked in, only the voice of a little girl._

_"Don't cry, don't cry or they'll hurt you !"_

_But he keeps crying and the pain comes._

\- - - --

He wakes suddently with a muffled scream, fighting all his reflexes to lay still in his bed on the dormroom of the organization.

They say you can't revive pain. Bond thinks it's bullshit. Maybe you're not able to feel physical pain once it's over, but the psychological one... there's no escape from this one.

Through the thin walls, he can hear kids whispering. He wishes they wouldn't. Talking will only bring them some form of punishment and he's one of the men in charge of correcting the kids now.

 

\- - - - -

_The little girl looks at him with fierce eyes under her dark curls._

_"Don't cry Eve." He says. "I don't want to have to hurt you."_

_"I'm already hurt." The mini Monneypenny answers back. "And it's gonna get worse. And it's your fault !" She screams in a high pitched voice._

_"I have orders."_

_"Screw orders!" Its so strange to have these words coming from the mouth of a blurry kid in his mind that can't be more than five years old according to his nightmare. "It's usually what you do. But now you follow them... You're ... You're..."_

_She starts screaming and her little face is covered in blood._

\- - - - -

He wakes up, shaking and covered in sweat.

The worst part is taking the kids to the clinic. It does not happen frequently, but way too often.

"But, I'm not sick..."

Bond hits the little boy on the back of his head. "Don't ask questions."

The kid curls into a ball on the car, and remains quiet.

No, actually the very worst part is taking the kids back from the clinic. He arches an eyebrow at the driver who smirks.

"What do you think? Better keep them alive until there's a client for another organ. This one can live without a kidney and half his liver."

Bond wants to shoot him dead right now. He could. He could kill the driver, steal the car, get back to the organization quarters and slaughter them all. God he wants to ! But he still hasn't put Q's worm into any of their computers. He's too new in the organization, they don't trust him and never let him out of sight.

He nods, smirks at the driver in the rearview and carefully press a hand on the cheek of the little boy asleep in his arms. Whoever patched him up did a bloody lame job and there's already blood on the leather seats.

\- - - - - - -

_" And you thought I was bad."_

_Vesper is still beautiful, still vividly bright in his nightmares and his heart starts pounding._

_"When you dreamed of a life with me, did you dream about kids?"_

_He has a lump in his throat, he can't move, can't run away from her gaze._

_"What would have been their names? How many ? How many would have ended up here?"_

_Breathing is hard, his chest is on fire. He's been tortured often enough to know what it feels like when you're drowning and Vesper's dress is now clinging to her body, soaking wet._

_"Or is it in you? Would you have done that to your own kids? Hiting them when they cry ?"_

_He want to shake his head, say no, of course not. He already hates everything he has to do to these kids and he doesn't even know their names._

_His lungs fill with water and he starts to gargle as she spits blood and murky water. She raises her eyes on him one last time, already grey, already dead, a hand curled on her belly that's suddenly very round._

_"Would you have killed them if England required it ?"_

\- - - - - - - -

He forces himself awake. Everything is quiet around him except for his heart pounding in his ears. But he doesn't hear anything coming from the guard at the entrance of the dormroom. One quick glance confirms that the man is fast asleep. Bond takes two minutes to go over his plan one last time then quickly and quietly gets out of bed. He retrives the USB key hidden in the loos under a sink and pads to the door careful not to wake anyone.

The hallway is dark but he has good night vision and by now, he knows the building by heart, could find his way with his eyes closed. There's a computer in the break room that he's not allowed to use yet. Turning the device on takes one excruciatingly long minute then he plugs the USB key in one of the ports. A red light flashes on it and quicly turns green. Bond hopes that it means the worm is on. He takes back the key, turns the laptop off, then goes quickly back to the sink to hide the key again.

When he gets back to the dormroom the guard is slowly waking up.

_Shit !_

"Where were you?"

"Taking a piss, did you want to give me a hand?"

The man grumbles and insult and Bond gets back to his bed.

No more sleep for him tonight, but at least, the job he had is done. Now he just have to wait for MI6 to come and take down the organisation.

He hates waiting.

\- - - - - - --

_The dreadful feeling in his guts when people mention his real name, when his cover has been busted, is always the same. And he always lies at first, pretend he doesn't kno what this is about. Honestly, it never works. But it's worth the try._

_Then, usually commes the pain. He's used to it, trained to it._

_Except this time, failing the mission is worse than ever, except this time, the pain doesn't come._

_There's only four or five shots, then darkness._

\- - - - - - -

He wakes up.

Sadly, it was not another nightmare.

 

##

"Losing 007 is not an option." Q hisses. He presses his tablet against his chest, like a shield, and ignores the litany in his head while facing M.

_(Lose. Lost children. Lost treasure. Lose yourself. Looser. On the loose...)_

"We need more time to plan this extraction." M says with a tired voice. His suit is crumpled and he looks ten years older than two days ago. "We can't afford to waste one year of work by not catching everyone in the organization for the sake of saving one agent !"

Q grits his teeth, hands clenched so tight on his tablet that he might have broken it by now.

_(I'm not losing an agent. I'm not losing and agent. I can't lose an agent ...)_

"I won't let an agent die because you needed more time ! Figure it out !"

"You're forgeting who you're talking to Quartermaster !"

"Oh do I ?" Q's rage is like nothing he has ever experienced. "They're going to kill him, it's only a matter of time before they realise he won't give anything to them, they'll kill him, move the children away, change identities and all your precious year of work will be garbage !"

"He's right boss." Monneypenny chips behind him. "Better start the operation now, even unprepared and catch a few of them than having to start all of it from scrap."

"Give me 48 hours to plan things ahead..." Mallory says .

"We don't have 48 hours !" Q yells. "We're doing this right now ! They kill children without remorse, what do you think they'll do to Bond ?"

"Nothing he hasn't been trained to deal with." Mallory answers trying his best not to yell out of frustration. " You can't launch something this big just by snapping your fingers!"

For a split second, Q remains quiet, then a dark grin spread on his face.

"Watch me."

He turns toward Monneypenny.

"Eve?"

"With you Q." She already has her cellphone by her ear, tablet under her arm, pen in hand.

"I need two medic teams, three if that's possible, make sure they're prepared for taking care of children." He stormed out of Mallory's office, already opening tab in his tablet. "I want a CCTV stream around the building, radius one mile. Someone get Tanner on the phone and make him close every way in and out of London I don't care about the traffic the whole operation will be finished in two hours." He keeps giving orders on his way to Q branch and sure enough when he enters, his desk is already filed with reports, screens flashing images of CCTV, mug of hot tea at his designed spot.

Monneypenny is yelling at someone a few steps behind him and he can sense the look of M in his back. He doesn't turn, simply puts his headset above his ears and starts browsing through footages, hacking back quickly into the organization's network.

"Unless you're about to revoque all my access to government facilities, I suggest you get the prime minister on the phone, tell him your quartermaster has gone rogue and that I fully expect the longest prison sentence our judicature can think of for the criminals I'm about to send him."

The litany in his head faded, leaving its place to a clear determination.

_(I'm not losing Bond. I'm not losing these children.)_

"I'm gonna take them down and they'll pay for what they did. Even if I have to build their prison with my bare hands."

_(I'm not losing them.)_

 


	3. Underestimated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It doesn't feel like a celebratory night" Q says. "More like a recovery night."  
> "So what, booze and meaningless sex?"  
> "I don't do meaningless sex."
> 
> But there's booze and pizza and cats in this chapter.

 

Time slows down when Q is stressed out. The litany in his head faded to a white noise, barely there, almost soothing, familiar.

Roads are closed around the block where the organization HQ is. Soon enough someone inside will realize no car passes by, but not right now. Hocking into security cameras of the building takes him a few minutes and images in black and white fill the wall in front of him. He counts, give orders, times slows down a little more.

There's a digital timer above him, the red numbers flashes rythmically, it's soothing too, it eases the ache in his back and the tremor in his hands.

"Twenty children" He hears himself say. "Get some psychologist on the evac team. Some of them are hurt. Three at least." His heart pounds, he tracks any movement on the cameras. "Sixteen men, all armed. Tazzers, .22, nine milimeters."

"He's here!"

Monneypenny steps next to him, pointing to one of the images on the wall. The room is so dark that Q did not pay atention to it. But there's someone bound to a chair in it, passed out and it's obviously Bond.

"Evac team for agent 007, second floor." He says in his coms.

Times suddenly goes faster as someone opens the door, flooding the room with ligh that briefly blinds the camera.

 

##

Time slows down when you're in pain or passed out, or both. Ice cold water brings Bond out of his comatose state and he gasps, trying to get his mind to work. He feels sick, dizzy , and whoever bound him to this chair made a damn good job at trying to cut the blood flow to his hands. They're already numb and ice cold and his shoulders hurt.

He blinks,tries to focus on the man who ust woke him up. No one he knows. They shot him with the hypodermic narcoleptic they use for rebelious kids, he doesn't remember how many times.

" How many doses?" He asks mostly to try his voice.

"Seven. You're tougher than you look."

Bond smirks.

"Who are you?" The man asks casually.

"You already know I won't tell you. And you also know my name, why asking?"

A punch in the belly is his only answer.

"I ask the questions."

"Fine."

The guy does ask questions, and he's quite good at interogating people Bond think. A little ruthless maybe, predictable, but really good. He knows where to hit to make it hurt a lot without actually damaging his prisonner. And he's always carefull not to get close enough long enough to let Bond have a hope at touching him.

Time slows down even more. Bond knows how much his body can take, his mind, however is long gone away. It's one of the lessons they gave in during training that he actually cared to remember. Let your mind wander away from the pain. Find a safe place, stay in it. Say nothing.

He's in his safe place when he starts spitting blood and the sharp pain of a fractured rib blooms inside him. It's warm here, soft and simly lit by the sunlight peaking through heavy curtains.

He's actually been in this bed before. Because of course his mind wandered to a bed.

He's still in this safe place when the guy slowly starts to choke him. Bond could laugh if he had enough oxygen to do it. He knows that the guy won't kill him, he only hopes that the lack then suden intake of air will make him delirious enough to answer. And the other knows it too.

Soon enough, the guy will understand how well trained Bond is. How dangerous a man like him is, and what it means that he's inside the organization under a fake identity.

From that moment, Bond knows he's a dead man. Except if MI6 comes to save him, or he manages to do it himself. Boh are highly unlikely to happen.

He could laugh right now because either way, he's closer to the end of his misery than he ever was.

 

##

_(I'm not losing them, any of them.)_

Every exit has been carefully secured. On the screen, the timer says that it's been 43 minutes since the begining of the operation.

"You're clear to go." Q says in the coms at all the agents.

_(I'm not losing these kids.)_

It's a rush of images, sounds, reports, as doors are busted open, gunshot fired. Then people scream loud enough that Q winces. Then kids, and he's not fast enough to keep track of everything.

"Report on the kids situation!"

"Geting them out." Says a sharp voice.

"005 here, got 007."

"Oh thank God." Q turns toward Mallory standing next to him, his eyes on the wall of moving images before them. "It would have been a real waste not to get him back."

"I love you too M." comes the very distant voice of Bond through 005 coms.

_(I did not lose him. I'm losing none of them.)_

The litany is now more a happy, hopeful melody than anything else and times starts going smoothly again. The members of the organization are taken down one by one. The kids are all safe with the medical unit that slowly takes them away from the HQ, away from the curious gaze of bystanders. On a little window in his desktop, a real time feed of reports from Scotland Yard tells him about the progress of the team curently chasing whoever bought kids, or parts of said kids based on the intels Q hacked from the organization's data bank.

His back hurt from tension, but everything is goind as well as he could have hoped.

"Get me there." He says to everyone and no one in particular. There is still one person missing and Q can't seem to find him no matter where he looks on the cameras. "There's something missing in these files, I need access to their computers."

"How do you know something's missing if you don't see it ?" Monneypenny asks squinting her eyes.

"The same way you know you lack pieces when you put all you had and your puzzle is not finished. There's holes I can't fill from here. I don't have the Boss identity, and they did not manage to capture him. I need his computer if I want to find him."

_(I'm not losing any of them.)_

 

It takes them twenty minutes to get to the organization HQ, by the time the arrive, the kids have been all evacuate along the criminals, everything seems desert except for a few security agents, M, Monneypenny and Q. He goes straight to The Boss office where the computer is still running. There's no sign of the man and Q half listen to comunications in his coms while working as fast as he can on the files. He cannot let The Boss escape. Most files are crypted but nothing resist him for long and then nothing makes sense anymore.

"Bond... Is there an underground level in this building ?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Bond replies in a throaty voice in Q's hear.

Q frowns and keeps browsing the files, emails, security details, transactions for a few minutes. He feels really cold sudenly.

"Fuck." He mutters.

"What ?"

Q brings a hand to his head, trying to collect his thoughts.

"There's a nursery in here, and it's loaded with explosives."

"What's the point ?"

"Leverage." Q says throat constricted. "They keep babies in there, intend to threaten anyone who would harm the organization that..."

"That they'll blow the building out with the babies in it." Says Monneypenny who enters, cellphone in her hand "We just had the call."

"He's there. He's in the nursery." Q says as for himself.

"I'm getting him." Bond says. Before anyone can protest, he pushes back the doctor trying to patch him up and makes his way into the building. "Where to Q?"

"007, you're injuried, let 005 take care of this!" M's voice is sharp in their ears but everyone knows his order will probably not be followed.

"This is my mission, my target." Bond says sternly. "I had to do things to these kids for this mission, you're not depriving me of my revenge!"

"This should not be about revenge James." Monneypenny whispers.

"Fine, call it closing a case. Where do I go Q?"

"First floor, third room on the right after the staircases, it's a conference room but there's a hidden door behind the whiteboard."

Monneypenny looks like she's mad at him.

"He's injuried why do you let him..."

"Because he needs to." Q cuts her. He doesn't care that everyone can hear them through their communicators. Everyone needs to know that,even Mallory. Especially Mallory. "These kind of missions are hard to endure on a psychological level, there has to be a form of retribution, a sense of justice to it. I don't care if Bond kills this guy." He raises his eyes to the ceiling. " Actually 007, I do mind, we want him alive !"

"Copy that." Bond says, and Q can hear the faint smile in his voice.

"Let him get something good out of all this mess." Q finishes more for himself than for Eve. She nods.

 

##

Running with injuried ribs is agony. He still spits blood from time to time and he knows this is not good at all. Be he has to take this man down. He wants to. Whoever can do to children what Bond saw deserves to die. But this time, he's decided not to kill the man. For once, his work must be publci, people must know that this is not okay, that the government, the crown, won't allow child slavery. Because this is what it felt like to be here, sending children to slavery and Bond will probably never be able to look at himself in the mirror if only a single child is not brought back in safety by MI6.

Corpses cannot go into trials, and this whole organization needs a trial so everyone will know.

With Q instructions he finds the hidden door leading to the nursery, and of course, The Boss is here, next to a crib, pointing a gun at him. Bond doubts that the man can aim, but this is a very big caliber, if the bullet hits him, anywhere, it will be really incapacitating.

Most frightening is the detonator in the man's hand.

"You won't use it." Bond says casually. "You would blow yourself up."

The Boss smiles. He's pale, looks like a candle about to start melting. "And you won't take the chance to let this kid die in the explosion." He says lowering his gun toward the crib. Bond slowly takes a few steps further, there's indeed a baby here. Probably a girl since she's wrapped in pink sheets. Laying on her back, sleeping peacefully.

"Whatever you do, you're a dead man." Bond says. "You can't blow the building, you can't use her as leverage, you can't run... I could disarm and kill you before you step out that door."

"Oh you certainly can." The Boss says. There's nothing good in his nasty green. "But you can't take both of us at the same time."

 _"Fuck"_ Q shouts in his hear but something hits Bond from behind, making him crash on the crib. The baby falls and starts crying loudly as Bond rolls on his back to face his new ennemy. His comm is gone in the attack and he feels more than he sees The Boss Taking the baby in his arms. Above Bond is ... He has to focus his eyes to believe it.

This is a kid. Sixteen years old, top. Long dirty blonde hair falling on empty blue eyes, ill fitted t-shirt hanging from his slender body, baseball bat in hand. The other hand holds a dirty teddy bear and this is what creeps Bond the most. The kid doesn't move and he should take his hesitation to attack but the Boss voice cuts him.

"Nice isn't it ? I had him and his sister from foster care ten years ago. Well, she was always a little brat, hard to manage you see. But him? Took me only a few year to break him. Good little pet he is now."

Bond shivers as the boy smiles. It's a genuine happy smile at being The Boss good pet and Bond wants to shoot him in the head only to get rid of that awful smile.

"Kill him." The Boss says.

Bond has plenty of time to dodge away from the attack, but the kid still hits him with his teddy bear. Okay, Bond was definitely not prepared to feel sharp blades cut through his shirt. The toy is full of knives. Convenient.

He fights, forgeting about the pain in his chest, his back, arms, legs. He fights, careful to always block the way out for The Boss. It doesn't take very long, The kid is well trained, but Bond is better. He takes the teddy bear away in a few punches. The kid tries to hit him with his baseball batt, he's awfuly quiet, only making guttural sounds and when he starts screaming with his attacks, Bond can see the emptiness where his tongue should be. He ducks away from the bat, Takes it in his hands and swiftly takes it away from the kid, hiting him on the head with it. He doesn't stop to look at the Boss, he has an overwhelming sense of where he is, mostly because the baby keeps yelling in his arms. He pluges to the teddy bear, tears it appart, as gunshot destroy stuff around him. One bullet hit him on the left shoulder and he grins, his mind blinded by the pain and the adrenaline. The knives inside the toy are not balanced well enough, but Bond throws it with all his remaining force and rage. The Boss falls into the ground, yelling, holding his side already covered in blood. Bond throws another knife without even rising from where he's leaning on the floor. It gets the Boss righ on the tight and he collapses, luckily not crushin the baby that dropped to the floor.

This time, Bond raises and reels to the gun on the floor next to the motionless body of The Boss.

"DUCK!"

Bond does out of instinct and a gunsho explodes in his hears. He automatically closed his eyes and when he opens them, Q is on the doorway, Monneypenny behind him. He holds a gun and all of him is trembling except for his hand that is awfuly steady. Behind Bond, the kid lays dead, a neat hole on his forehead, blood starting to pool on the floor around his head.

Monneypenny kneels next to The Boss, makes sure he's still alive and handcuffs him.

"I'll go get help." She says. '"Q, you look over him."

Q nods, drops the gun to the floor and smiles at Bond.

"Looks like we were right on time."

"How did you learn to shoot a gun ?"

"Do you really believe I would design weapons I couldn't personally test ? You're ofending me Bond !"

Bond smiles and let himself fall to his knees, pain overflowing him. It takes everything in him not to lean on Q when the boffin carefully sits next to him. The ringing in his hears fades away and then there's only the loud cries of the baby that hurts his brain like it's designed for.

"Please make it stop!" He growls between clenched teeth.

Q carefully lays him on the floor, mindfull not to hurt him and crawls to the crib where the sounds come from. He comes back on shaky legs, carrying a moving bunck of sheets and the baby is still crying awfully loud.

"Shh..." Q hushes , sitting back next to James. The floor is cold and uncomfortable so the agent moves painfully to rest his head on Q's tights. The boffin doesn't seem to mind and God, Bond is almost jealous of the baby because he's in so much pain that it would be good to have someone holding him like Q is holding the little girl. He almosts wishes the medic team would come soon.

Q is now muttering quiet nonsense that probably only babies care for, and he's surprisingly good at it.

"We'll find someone to take care of you." He says, but the baby still wriggles and cry in his arms. " I know you're scared, but it's okay now, the baddies are gone."

Bond smiles at the "baddies" line but says nothing. He closes his eyes and lets his spinning head be lulled by the quartermaster's babbling.

"And you're hungry too. When you'll have teeth, I'll bring you to eat sushis. It's good, almost as good as tea. At what age is a child allowed to drink tea?" He asks nudging Bond with his knee.

"Don't know, don't care." The agent replies. "This muddy water is what caused the fall of the British empire and you qhouldn't drink it either !"

"Uncle Bond is grumpy when he's hurt." Q says to the baby. Said baby is silently sobbing in his arms now, and it's actually a relief. She looks at him with deep blue eyes and he wonders if they'll turn darker growing up ? "And if you still have parent somewhere I swear I'll find them and bring them back to you." He says softly, raising a single finger to gently caress her cheek. Out of hunger, the kid tries to suck on it and Q smiles. He's dizzy now and the adrenaline is not enough anymore to keep the pain away.

"What if you can't?" Bond asks.

"Stop being yourself for a moment, and try to be positive James!"

"Oh it is James now?"

"I just saved your arse, I'm entitled."

Bond is still smiling when medics come in. Someone carefully takes the baby away from Q asking if it has a name. Just before he blacks out, Bond hears himself saying " Emma."

Because this is how Kincade called the old M before she died. And somehow, this is fitting.

 

##

 

"Do you have a genetic inhability to stay in medical more than two hours?" Q sighs when Bond enters his office. The agent smile. He's pale, dark circles under his eyes, medical tape plastered at various spots of his face, but he smiles.

"I'm hungry." He says. " And whatever they serve to their patients I refuse to eat. The doctor discharged me because I was not behaving well."

Q supress a laugh and tries to focus on his report, but his eyes are burning by now, and he's hungry too, and dead tired now that the adrenaline has left him.

"It doesn't feel like a celebratory night." He says softly. Somehow, he accepts that for a reason he still quite don't understand, he is the one Bond wants to have dinner with. "More like a recovery night."

"So what, booze and meaniningless sex?"

"I don't do meaningless sex." Q smiles. "But booze seems like a good plan. And pizza. I'd kill for a pizza right now."He pauses and raises his eyes on Bond. "You lied on your repport. You said you killed the kid."

Bond nods. "Only one of us has a licence to kill." He says casually. He hands Q his jacket. "I tried to spare you some more paperwork."

That too, Q accepts, trying not to ask too many questions. He's way too tired to think.

They take a cab back to Q's flat without a word. Bond seems okay with not coming back to his anonymous living room, and petting Q's cats instead. Q toes off his shoes, drops his jacket on the carpeted floor and takes Tesla in his arms.

"Try to be nice five more minutes miss, we have a guest." He purrs, nose in her fur. She mews quietly and starts to wander around Bond's legs the minute he drops her to the floor. The agent bends to pet her and Q makes his way to the bathroom, displaying clean towels next to the sink and retriving a box from a cupboard that he brings back in the hallway where there is now two cats asking James for food.

He hands him the box, awkwardly. "Stuff for guests." He says.

Bond smiles and opens the box, then shoots him a questioning look handing a box of pads. "Seriously Q?"

Q shrugs. "An idea of my mom. She says you should always have pads out of curtesy for you female guests. You don't have to use them if you don't feel like it."

James raises his eyebrows, and slowly a smile spreads his lips. "Noted."

"And the shower supplies are from Monneypenny, she hates showering with the tiny hotel stuff I gather in here."

There's indeed a few items for shower in the box that Bond can already say are pricey and luxurious. He smiles and nods, makes his way to the bathroom and tries to let the water relax him. It's not as effective as he'd like to. His longshower turns short, even with the soap that Eve probably carefully chose to have a unisex smell and that Bond is quite fond of. His entire body is aching, he need a drink or several, he's cranky and upset and overall not a good company. He should leave.

But when he exits the tiny bathroom, towel around his hips, there's a set of clean sweatpants and oversized t shirt, so worn out and overwashed that he knows only by looking at them that they'll be awfully ill fitted and comfortable. And he can't find it in himself to go back to his empty apartment.

Q is in the tiny kitchen, coating a piece of paste with layers upon layers of ingredients.

"So, you do actually cook."

Q nods. "It's relaxing."

Next to him, the cats are eating while purring, and overall it's a nice feeling. Bond could hardly call it home or whatever, it doesn't feel like he belongs, but it feels cosy anyway. And he feels a little more at ease. It's strange because he's trained to feel at ease everywhere, or at least pretend to. But such a casual setting is way too unusual for him.

Q puts the pizza in the oven.

"Mind to keep an eye on it while I shower?"

"Not at all."

He crouches to pet the cats some more as Q heads to the shower. He can hear the quiet sounds of the water running, surrounded by the smell of homemade cooking and the feeling of Vlta soft orange fur under his hand. It seems to be the only part of his body that doesn't hurt him tonight. He sits on the floor, drags the cat on his knees and watches the pizza in the oven like other people gaze ant a fireplace.

"You think it will be better if you keep staring at it?" Q says playfully a few minutes later. He's wearing pajama bottoms and a hoodie with some superhero logo on it. Bond smiles.

"Everything is better when I keep starring at it."

"You wish."Q sits on the floor next to him with a relieved sigh and start scratching Tesla's head. "Eyes on the dinner fluffball, don't want it to be wasted because of you." He says to the cat. And this time, Bond laugh. It's a sound he doesn't produce much, it makes him feel younger, better somehow and what's even better is having Q laugh along with him and frighten the cats.

What's even better is the pizza, even if Bond could eat dust right now and love the taste of it because he's so hungry. They sit on Q's sofa with the cats trying to steal food from their plates and eat with their hands.

"You need a drink don't you?" Q says after his first bite.

"I need seventeen drinks and a hangover tomorrow morning."

"I can provide that if you're into cheap alcohol."

"You know I'm not, but it will do."

They drink, eat, and slowly, the strangeness of the situation fades along with how awful this mission was. There's a movie on the telly they don't mind to watch. They don't care to speak either. And somehow this is comfortable. Enough to ease the pain in Bond's limbs (but it might be the booze), enough to quiet the litany in Q's head ( again, maybe the booze.)

At some point, the pizza is finished and they turn their atention to the TV, carefully avoiding the news, arguing about shows Bond has never cared to watch. It's good.

The agent excuse himself for a bathroom break and he doesn't know why he makes a right turn into Q's bedroom before coming back to the living room. Maybe he wants another glimpse at what at home feels like. The unmade bed with crumpled covers, piles of papers on the desk, half read books on the nightstand and a closet with the door ajar that Bond could not care of except from a sharp sleeve peaking hrough it. He runs his hand along the soft material, feeling the texture under his fingers, slightly amazed to find something like a haigh end suit in Q's closet. The man wears cardigans and superhero hoodies for Christ sake!

But there's a few perfectly tailored suits in this closet sharing their space with awful turtlenecks and fabrics that make Bond's skin itch. He comes back in the living room with a Prada jacket in his hand, it's made of fine whool, stripped, slightly shining, and overall fancy and gorgeous.

"Never saw you wearing this at work!" He says raising the item for Q tu see above the head of the sofa.

The boffin is now curled around a cup of herbal tea and smiles softly. "You conldn't refrain yourself couldn't you?"Bond doesnt answer, just wait for him to carry on and Q shakes his head. "You know what my greatest weapon is James? It's to make people underestimate me. I could hardly do that looking straight out from a runway. Hence the classical look."

"So, why do you even own Italian designers?"

Q smirks. It's an expression that could make anyone uncomfortable but Bond feels strangely turned on (blame it on the booze... he's never going to drink cheap vodka ever again !).

"Because sometimes, I need to remind people that they see me as a weak little thing only because I allow them to."

Bond blinks. Q looks at him, and there's no trace of being drunk on his face. There's no trace of a guy too young for his work in him, even if he's curled around a cat wearing teenager's clothes. He's sharp, efficient and lethal and Bond absolutely did not see that coming.

And there comes the rush of affection. Bond wants to smile, to praise this freaking manipulative little shit, to bend over the sofa and kiss him senseless. He can already see it, feel his lips against him, feel his pulse rising with aprehension because the boffin could as easily return the kiss as he could kick him out of his flat. And Bond clenches his fists, takes a deep breath and tries to focus.

But all he can feel is the same warm and happy feeling in his guts he once felt looking at Vesper.

And he won't allow this to happen ever again. He carefully lays the high pricd jacket on the sofa.

"I think... I'll show myself out." He says. " Thanks for the lovely evening Q."

It takes Q just a second of startled silence to compose himself and nod. "Good night 007."

And Bond is out the door with a bag of his belongings, still wearing Q's sweatpants and t shirt and feeling like a fool and a coward.

Better be a coward than a broken man. He thinks. But as he takes a cab back to his flat, he thinks he's probably a little bit of both.

 

 

 


	4. Hit and miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't do interpersonal relationships Bond. They're messy and unpredictable and I'm bad at them. So tell me what I did wrong to upset you last night so I can try to redeem myself or not do it again in the future."
> 
> "You think you did something wrong ?"
> 
> The agent seems really surprised and Q wonder if he's making fun of him.
> 
> (Also everyone can take care of themselves and Monneypenny, Q and Bond should never go out together)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is damn wanky and I apologize for it !

It takes Q a whole working day to muster the courage to wander out of Q branch and into the nearly empty Double Oh section. They are away on the field or on mandatory leave most of the time, but still have a big office on the third floor of the building. The other half of said floor is for medical team and Q thinks it's quite a sane gestion of the space.

He knocks at the door because experience taught him to never surprise an agent. A feminine voice answers, it's 005, wearing a jumper full of fluffy pompoms and typing her report between two jokes exchanged with Bond. She's a good judge of character and probably feels the tension rising in the room the second Q enters.

"Okay." She says. "I'll pretend to have something to do elsewhere and leave you two sort out ... whatever you have to sort out." She gather her things and closes her computer in a very uncomfortable silence. "Don't raise even a hand on him Bond." She says. "He promised me earing with tiny cameras inside and I want them."

Bond raises his eyebrows from the desk behind which he's curently sitting. "Cameras in earings?"

Q raises his shoulders. "Makes sense, little earings are the one thing no one ever thinks to take off of a woman before sex. 005 and I both think she could put them to good use."

"Someone will just love having to go through the footages." Bond grins.

" Perks of being head of a branch, this someone won't be me." Q says. He sits across the desk, facing the agent. They both wait for the other to start speaking and it's Q who gives up first.

"Tell me what I did wrong."

Bond raises his eyebrows, tilts his head on the side, shots him a perplexe look that makes Q both iritated and uncomfortable.

"I don't do interpersonal relationships Bond. They're messy and unpredictable and I'm bad at them. So tell me what I did wrong to upset you last night so I can try to redeem myself or not do it again in the future."

"You think you did something wrong ?"

The agent seems really surprised and Q wonder if he's making fun of him. Bond sighs and leans on his chair, he runs a hand through his hair as if he's as uncomfortable as Q. And that can't be true because Q never felt so out of place in his entire life.

"Oh my god Q...I left because I was about to do something really misplaced."

Q frowns and Bond leans toward him, hovering above the desk as if trying to invade his personnal space without allowing himself to.

"I wanted to kiss you Q. So bad. I wanted to ... Nevermind."

Q's throat is sudenly dry and his heart is beating a little faster. "Go on." He says in a tone that's not nearly as detached as he would like it to be. Bond grins and raises from his seat, Q doesn't move as the agent comes close then behind him and bends to talk softly next to his ear.

"I'd have kissed you. And if you did not push me back, I'd have sprawled you on the sofa, run my hands all over you untill you'd be out of breath, then follow them with my lips, and my tongue, I'd..."

"Enough Bond." Q snaps. He resists the urge to jump on his feet and run away from Bond. "I get your point."

"Do you?" The agent doesn't move a single inch and Q can almost feel the heat radiating from him.

"I do. And I don't say I'd be opposed to it. But now is hardly an apropriate setting."

Q composes himself quickly Bond can give him that and he smiles even if the boffin can't see him.

"I told you I don't do meaningless sex." Q says again watching straigh ahead of him into the blank space that is the wall."I don't see the appeal."

"I could open your eyes." Bond says and ever so slowly bends a little more to press his lips agains Q's throat, careful to read every signal of discomfort he could gather from the pulse or the shiver that raises Q's hair on his neck.

"My eyes are well open Bond. I don't care how amazing you think you are, I'm not shaging someone whom I don't have feelings for. And if you think that's open to discussion, I'm afraid I'll have to hurt you and never give you any exploding stuff ever again."

Bond jerks his head away from Q with a spark of laugher. It comes from a happy place he did not realize he still had, somewhere Q's casual sarcasm always manage to touch.

"Fine." He says and gets bak to his seat, safely away from Q."I won't mention it again. Just want you to know that I'm an open door if you feel like it."

Q seems amused and surprised.

"It may be the first time I witness you taking in acount the views of the other part about sex."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You usually don't really care if the people you're after actually want to have sex with you. One way or another you make them agree to whatever you want."

Bond smiles, but it's not a happy expression.

"These people are mostly assets or targets, not friends." He says. "I do what my job needs me to do , but I don't have many friends Q. Shagging you is not worth losing one of the few I have."

Q smiles.

"How did you manage to make it sound like a compliment I wonder..."

"I am a man of many talents Quartermaster."

And Q laugh. It's a strange and nice sound coming from him that makes Bond want to laugh too. No matter how much he would like to know what's under this awful cardigan, no matter how much he'd like to have his hands on Q's messy hair, having him laughing next to him at their playful banter is something that Bond can rarely experience.

Sex is easy. Seduction is easy. He can get it out of anyone else. But lightly laughing with a friend is something far more precious for Bond. Mostly because it's very rare.

And he laugh too even if the situation is not exactly hillarious. It's good to laugh.

 

##

"Did he bug my flat? Q, did you help 007 to put cameras on my flat?" Monneypenny grumbles as they both enter her office an early morning of March. Q smiles at the file sitting neatly on Eve's desk with the name of her curent boyfriend on it.

"I did not, but he could have done it himself you know. Or maybe he terrorized someone enough to give him intels about your private life.

"Was this you?" She asks to Mallory who enters the office, morning cup of coffee in hand.

"I'm not responsible of whoever feels a little too protective of you miss Monneypenny." He snarks back with a little smile.

"It's Bond."

"Of course it is. Now if you'll excuse me ..." Mallory disappears in his office and Q is still smiling as Eve sits behind her desk and shoves the file on her trashcan.

"What's actually infuriating is that he truly thinks I'd have a relationship with someone and not make my own investigation first."

"He's concerned. Which shows that he owns a heart... That's what gets me concerned actually."

Eve smiles. "Would you help me get back at him for this obvious violation of my privacy?"

"If you allow me to remind you that all of us signed our privacy goodbye when we were hired here... well, yes."

When Bond gets back from a mission in South Africa three weeks later, he reports to M's office and Monneypenny makes him wait untill Mallory is finished with his curent meeting. There's something new on the wall behind her and Bond's vision is excellent but he still squint a little to make sure he has correctly identified the diploma hanging above her head.

It proudly states that Eve Monneypenny is the longest surviving female to ever have sex with agent 007.

It hurts because it's true. And it reminds Bond of how little privacy he is allowed. He usually doesn't care but to have it stated like this ... For God's sake, the Prime Minister comes into this office on a weekly basis !

Eve smiles at him unabashedly.

"Do you like it ?"

"I loathe it and require it gets off this wall and destroyed imediately."

"It will as soon as you stop stalking the people I hang out with."

"This is just me taking care of you from afar."

Eve laugh.

"Don't bother James. I'm a big girl and I can defend myself, also, my acreditation is higher than yours and I can dig stuff about people you'd be ashamed to find out. I don't need you to take care of me."

M's door opens and she winks at him. " After all, I killed one of the most dangerous men in the world isn't it ?"

"On accident."

Someone important gets out of M's office and nods to them before Bond is invited in. He winks at Monneypenny but when he exits the office half an hour later, the diploma is still here. He doesn't say anything.

 

##

When there's no international crisis to handle, Q has to set up an alarm on his cellphone to remind him to actually leave work instead of spending his nights working on some new tech.

It's friday night and Eve actually comes into his workshop a few minutes before the alarm rings. She wears high heels that he's pretty sure are not comfortable enough to be worn all day and a pair of old jeans with a yellow blouse that could make anyone except her look ill.

"Please take me out for a drink before I kill someone !"

"Bad day ?"

"Bad week... What are you working on?"

"Digital print replicator." Q says. "Cannot seem to make it work properly without causing great injuries to the person who you want to replicate fingerprints."

"This could be a good weapon actually." Says Bond peaking his head through the door. Q sighs.

"What brings you here 007?"

Bond hands him a leather belt. " Did not realize I had this for a month."

Q takes the belt then raise his eyebrows. " Is this your idea of a funny joke?"

"What?"

"This belt was not issued by Q branch, and it's not mine either so ..."

Bond frowns. "What do you mean not issued by Q branch ? It has the papers and curency hiden in it!"

He's right, the belt opens up and reveals everything that Q hid in it before giving him to Bond, two missions ago, but this is not the belt he designed. The weight don't fit, the leather is too new. This is a very ingenuous replica. He frowns too, turns to his desk and place the belt on a metal suitcase, his brain going fast to figure out what's wrong in this situation.

"They took it from you somehow... That's certainly how they managed to burst your cover..."

"But why replicate it ? Couldn't they just put it back into place after it became useless?" Monneypenny asks.

"I have no idea." Q says. And it's infuriating, he scraps his mind as much as he can but nothing comes. It doesn't make sense. Only one thing does as he eyes the fake papers he's taken out of the belt. "They knew who you were by looking at these papers, but these are identities you never used and were issued by MI6..."

"You think we have a mole?" Monneypenny asks.

Q nods. " Or worse."

He doesn't know what to do except report to M and pray that some clever idea will come soon. Eve puts a gentle hand on his arm. "Is there anything you can do about it tonight?"

He shakes his head. "I'll report to M tomorrow, since the organisation is down, if we have a mole it won't be hard to find and whoever it is can't make more damages ... it's been a month, if anything had to happen it would be done already."

"So drinks." She says. Then turning to Bond. " Care to join us like some civilized person?"

"It would be a pleasure."

_(What did I miss? What did I miss?)_

Eve drags him out of his workshop, into the street, into a cab and he realizes it only when they exit the cab somewhere near Covent Garden and the sun is setting somewhere coloring the sky in bright pink. Maybe it's because of the color of the sky but he sudenly craves a cosmopolitan and Eve orders a margarita. Q has heard Bond order so many vodka martini ( shaken not stirred) that it comes as a surprise when he asks for a beer.

The pub is nice, half full of people happily chatting and Q can grab one or two words of conversations around them and he relaxes a little. Eve is right, there is nothing he can do right now and worrying will not help him solve the problem of the maybe mole. Eve is playfully giving Bond a hard time because he's not caught on pop culture. He actually lost track of said culture a decade ago when Motley Crue became classic rock. Q smiles.

"I'm surprised you even know this band !"

"Many things about me could surprise you." Bond retorts, sipping his beer.

The evening is surprisingly nice for Q. The pub has a second floor that serves food and they are too comfy to move more than a few steps anyway. Q orders what seems the most greasy dish on the menu and Eve choses the first thing that comes with fries. Bond orders a salad, but this time, Q is not surprised. Neither is Eve. It seems like a night where Bond wants to change his habits, or maybe show off a little or ... whatever crosses his mind, Q couldn't care less. The alcohols makes him less tense by the minute. It's warm and cozy and he's about to doze off by the time their desserts arrive.

Monneypenny drags them to a nightclub next and Q looks surprisingly at ease. He slips in the crowd like a fish in water and orders them drinks as Eve and Bond sits on one of the alcoves surounding the dancefloor. Someone asks Eve to dance and she gracefully accepts leaving Bond and Q alone with their drinks. They chat over the music, mostly Q telling Bond about whoever is to blame for the bad music they've been suffering for half an hour now.

The guy that invites Q to dance must be really drunk in Bond's opinion because no one in his right mind would ask for a dance to a man clearly already engaged in a conversation with someone else, but Q accepts with a nod toward Bond.

"You won't be alone long. Plenty of women already have their eyes on you."

He's right and Bond knows it. He doesn't like being asked to dance by women. In his opinion, men should be the ones asking. And it's disturbing to be asked by a girl so ypung that he wonders if she is legally allowed in places like this? But he takes her hand and dance with her on a slow song, then she escapes to some stranger and he dances with Monneypenny, thankful to have an acutal adult in his arms this time.

"Are you having fun James?"

"I've survived worse situations"

Then, obviously, the situation gets worse. There's a move in the crowd that gather around two people, no longer paying atention to the music.

Q is in the center of a yelling circle, standing straight with a dark smile on his face.

"You slut!" The man he's been dancing with spits.

"That's not how you will have your way with me darling." Q says. The guy yells one more time and tries to hit him but Q is fast and, to Bond's surprise, he grabs the guy's arm, twist it in his back and with a swift move pushes him to the floor.

"Say you're sorry." Q says loud enough for everyone to hear above the music. When the guy doesn't answer, he twists his arm on his back a little more untill the guy whimpers.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Good."

Then Q is on his feets, casually straightening his clothes, telling the security that everything is fine. The scene is over, everyone is dancing again except Q's former partner that vanishes in the crowd and Bond, Eve and Q.

"Where did you learn to fight like this?" Bond has to yell to be heard over the music.

"Irrelevant Bond. Let's get out of here, the guy will be back with friends and I'm not in the mood to ruin the evening !"

Bond grins at Eve. "In the mood for a fight ?"

"Oh god yes! It's been too long !"

Q doesn't know what he did to deserve friends like that but he's not sure it was something good. Then the next song starts and Bond has his arms around him.

"Is this okay?"

"It is, but you are a terrible dancer." Q mocks.

"This is not dancing!"

Q smiles and places Bonds hands on his hips. "You just follow the rythm and do whatever feels natural, nobody cares."

"I care and this doesn't feel natural at all."

Q grins and tries to ignore the imminent menace of being beat up by a bunch of angry people to let the music flow through him. It used to be easy to lose himself in the sound, way back in time when he was a teenager and he and Jonathan spent a lot of times in clubs like this. But he's not dancing with Jonathan, and Bond is right, none of this feels natural like it used to be.

But fighting, that comes naturally. The first punch hits him in the back, he crashes against Bond who swiftly pushes him away next to Eve. Words are exchanged and Q can see Bond going from casual and uneasy to killing machine in a few seconds. This cannot be a good sign, but it's actually what Q needs too.

The litany in his head, drown in music and alcohol fades away completely as one of the guys tries to hit him. Q's fighting skills are rusty, and every time he hits someone it hurt his fists, but God this is good. He catches glimpses of Eve taking down her fair share of oponents and she does it in high heels which would be enough for Q to admire her if it wasn't already the case.

It's over so quickly that the security can only see them take down the last guy when they arrive.

"YOU GET OUT !" The security guy yells. And Q can see that he's afraid. Bond raises his hands with a little smile.

"We were on our way out." He says casually.

It takes them five long minutes to gather their jackets and exit the club. The outside air is chilly, and they stay silent for a few seconds before Eve burst into laugher, quickly followed by Q then Bond. The fight did not manage to ruin her make up but her tears of laugher does and she whipes her eyes with a piece of her blouse.

"Damn." She grumbles. "I liked this one." Her top is shredded from the fight and Bond, ever the gentleman covers her with his coat. "Where did you learn to fight like that Q ?"

Q waches at his bruised fists. "In school actually." He says. " I was a tiny nerd with an angel face, so it was way too easy to provoke any stupid kid I could to beat me in front of a teacher or anyone with authority and have them expelled. That way they would not bully me between classes ... turns out these kids always had friends and learned fast to come back at me in quiet places so I had to stand for myself." This might be the longest sentence he made all week and he knows he sounds lame, but he won't apologize, ever again, for being once, a helpless child. "It cost me all the money I could make to take self defense classes, but it was worth it."

Bond smiles.

"And you still wonder why M chose you to become quartermaster? You were a manipulative little bastard from a young age, she'd rather have people like you working for her than against her."

Q smiles and nods. "Says the pot to the kettle."

"Actually, that explains why you were so good at your training." Eve says.

"Training?"

She rolls her eyes at Bond's question. " Yes, training James ! He's one of the most important people at MI6, probably one of the ten most powerful persons of England, do you really think we wouldn't make sure he was able to defend himself ? Of course he got training!"

It makes sense but Bond never thought about it. Always saw Q as a scientist, a genius to be protected, and not exactly someone who could very well protect himself and all the secrets he had in his head.

"Did they train you to..."

"They did." Q cuts him. "They trained me for everything, still do actually."

They fall silent for a few minutes untill Monneypenny kisses Q on the cheek, nods to bond and disappears into a cab.

"I told you James. I am not a liability. I'm safe."

"It's like you're trying to seduce me."

Q laugh. "Not exactly. I wouldn't know how to do that anyway. But since we both know you're up for it... this is my way of granting you permission to seduce me."

Q has his eyes stuck on the empty street and Bond cannot really see anything on his facial expression, but what he witnessed tonight might be the most intimate thing he ever got from anyone. It's like Q has multiples identities and armors hiding him from everyone and everything, and Bond really wants to strip each of his layers and find the real man underneath. He had glimpses of that person, and somewhere deep down, he believes that Q is safe.

Safe to hold close, safe to care for.

And Bond refrains himself to think that Q is safe to love. No one is safe to love.

 

##

_(What did I miss?)_

Q doesn't sleep. He pets the cats all night long.

He gets up early, is the first to work, and goes through all the datas Bond sent him about the child trafficking organization.

_(What did I miss? Why do I feel like I'm missing something important?)_

The minions comes one by one and the day comes and goes as the litany gets more and more violent in his head.

_(What did I miss? I miss you. Mistake. Mismatch.)_

_(What did I miss?)_

He reports to M hoping that stating the facts out loud might help him figure out the missing piece of the puzzle, but it doesn't.

"So a mole in the identity department?"

"Maybe." Q says. " Or maybe someone who hacked our systems."

"Didn't you improve them after Silva?"

"I did." Q nods. The next phrase bruises his ego more than he'd care to admit. "But no system is entirely safe. I did the best I could but I can't find the flaws in my own work... It's not entirely impossible that someone else could."

"How many people have the actual skills to get through your defense systems?"

"That I know of ? Three ... But maybe dozens of people I don't know exist."

"So we have a problem."

Q nods.

_(What did I miss?)_

 

_##_

It's a nightmare, Bond knows it because he never actually have good dreams. And reality hurts much more than this.

Q is getting dressed in front of a mirror. He wears the Prada suit that Bond found in his closet. He looks tired.

"I'm safe James."

In his nightmare, Bond is unable to say anything, but unlike real life, his brain is not clouded by lust or amazment or whatever it is that obscured his judgement.

Q isn't safe.

He's manipulative, secret, really good at hiding himself and his emotions. He's dangerous and doesn't even need a weapon to kill someone. He holds military secrets in his brain and no matter how much training he has, every man has a breaking point.

Bond could so easily list Q's breaking points. Or maybe it is another of his tricks.

And Bond is falling for all of them.

 

The agent wakes up in the darkness of his bedroom, still heavy from his bad dream. Q isn't safe. But one thing James learned over the years is that unsafe people are the ones who will probably not stab you in the back. Because you never fully trust them.

Q is not safe. But neither is Bond.

They're a match made in Hell.

 

 

 


	5. The attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains multiple warnings , it's about a terrorist attack so be careful with reading it.   
> Also know that, as a french citizen, it hit closer to home than I'd like to admit and I may have toned it down ( or up, dunno) a little due to personnal issues with this concern.   
> Plus (beware this might be spoilery) I'm not trying to point finger on anyone here since the "terrorists" in this chapter are no religious people at all. 
> 
> And I guess this is also a good time to thank you a big big lot for reading me, every kudo makes my heart jump and every comment is a delight and I'm having a lot of fun writing this fic thanks to you!

 

"Two months Q ! It's been two months!" Monneypenny says a little too loudly.

The workshop is busy with activity and her sentence gets lost in the white noise of technicians doing their jobs. Q smiles.

"Have you considered the possibility that maybe, Bond is just not that into me ?"

"Not that into you? Last time someone looked at me like he looks at you, I got laid!"

"Good for you Eve, but I'd much prefer if things remains the same between 007 and me."

"You granted him permission to seduce you ! I've made my researchs about demisexuality Q ! You have a soft spot for him!"

"I do." Q says. He pushes his blueprint and technical drawing away knowing very well that he won't be able to focus as long as Eve is here. "But it was a mistake."

She frowns. " You don't make mistakes."

"Sorry to disapoint but I do. Have you ever considered the fact that if I have sex with Bond, it will be because I'll have feelings for him. And what next ? He'll leave, he always leaves, and I'll be alone with my enrequited love."

"You thought about it."

Q nods. " And I elicted that it's way better if neither 007 or me develop feelings for one another. Let's keep it professional."

Something in her expression tells him that something is sudenly wrong.

"He's behind me is he ?"

Eve nods.

"Greetings 007. " Q sighs before turning toward Bond that hands him a gun and a radio with a little smile. Both in pristine condition. "I'm impressed." Q says.

"And this" Bond adds showing him a celphone " Is my 20th item brought intact to Q branch."

"You're here only to gather your price aren't you ?"

"I am." Bond smiles like a teenager and it makes Q smile too.

"This way 007" Q actually has a safe for the exploding pens because they are a really good way to bribe agents into bringing their tech back to Q branch in working order. He hands a black Mont Blanc to Bond.

"Press three times on the top to arm it, ten seconds before explosion, press twice to deactivate it."

Bond smiles and imediately starts to play with his new toy. Q rolls his eyes, every agent did the exact same thing when they got their pen.

"Do I have to bring it back in one piece?"

"No. This is actually a gift from me to my agents." Q says gently. "Consider it my way of thanking you to take care of my tech and yourself."

"Are you concerned for my safety quartermaster?"

"I'm concerned about the safety of the informations you carry with you most of the time."

Q did not realize that Eve did not follow them into his office and that he's now alone with Bond.

"About what I said to Eve..."

"Don't bother, I wasn't supposed to listen anyway." Bond smiles. He pockets the exploding pen carefully and makes his way out, stoping just on the doorstep.

"Just for the record. I am that into you."

 

##

A bomb explodes in the subway near Picadilly Circus and it's like ten years ago all over again. Q was still a student when three bombs exploded in the subway and one in a bus. But he remembers the panic, the crowd and the confusion. He remembers Jonathan grabbing someone by the shoulder and asking for explanations, geting none. He remembers how the ground trembled under their feets and how they never managed to get their train because King's cross was a war zone.

It's been ten years but no one forgot.

And it's happening all over again.

Only one bomb this time, exploding at Picadilly station. And suddenly the CCTV is full of panicked people trying to get out of the subway, running into the streets and there's no sound on Q's feed but he can imagine it.

It's like a reflex by now, he gets calmer than a lake. His mind is only occupied by one thing : who did this?

_(Who did this? Where are they?)_

He yells orders, gets every CCTV he can on his multiple screens, gets someone to a direct line with Scotland Yard. Somewhere, M is probably already talking to the Prime Minister, heading down to Q branch. Q searches, his eyes have nerver been so fast.

Seven of them. There are seven of them. Three died in the attack, the four others are lost in the terrified crowd.

_(Where are they? Where are they?)_

Confusion and panick won't get the best of him, he has to find whoever did this. He rewinds the footages of the attack, memorize the faces, the clothes, the back packs and quickly follows them one by one as they split, exit the subway three minutes before the bomb explodes, all four of them takes different roads.

"Eyes on each ones" he yells " I take the one with the baseball hat." And he has to trust his team to quickly follow his orders because he can't track them all at the same time. And he's determined to catch everyone of them.

"Agents on the field." M says in his back. "And 005 is here too."

"She's on mandatory leave." Q says eyes not moving from the CCTV that follows his target.

"Shopping trip turned bad." M sighs. "Can someone plug my phone somewhere ? I have her on the line."

Q doesn't have to gesture to anyone but soon enough, 005's voice is on speaker all over the room.

"You okay agent?"

"For now I am. Where to Q?"

"To Leicester square via Coventry street. Look for a guy with a baseball hat."

"Yeah like half of london isn't curently wearing some kid of hat." She spits. He can hear the sound of her breathing on the phone as she runs. She doesn't respond to any police officer that asks her to stop. She's probably followed by now but Q doesn't care. They need to catch them.

"Where are the others?" The answers fuses, Number One is quickly going up Picadilly Street, Number Two down Regent's street and Number Three took a car that the agents are tracking through the city streets, away from the site.

_(Something's wrong. I'm missing something.)_

"Got target on sight." 005 says a little out of breath. "He's entering the Odeon cinema on Leicester."

_(Something's wrong)_

"Follow him, We need him alive 005" M says out loud.

"Copy that."

_(Something's wrong)_

Q follows the information feed coming from Scotland Yard on his monitor. Twelve dead. Fifteen. Thirty one injuried for now. Number One makes a right turn on White Horse street and Q feels his heart stop. That's what he's been missing.

"STOP IT ! 005, IT'S AN ORDER!" He yells. " DON'T ENTER THE CINEMA !"

A minion can't supress a scream when the second bomb explodes. The one carried by Number One, just as he enters the Farmer's market. And Q senses his blood runs cold, like everything in him is now made of fear and dread. His eyes are glued on the footages on his screen.

_(Please ... No ... I'm not losing her !)_

"GET OUT OF HERE 005!"

"Cop..."

Her phrase gets cut out by the explosion. The image trembles a little and Q's eyes are burning just before smoke starts to get out of the building's door along with terrified people. Q is nothing but a big tremor now, unable to cope, to follow anything on the screens. The litany in his head is overwhelming.

_(I lost her. I lost her. I lost her ...)_

"Q ... Get yourself together ! We need you !" M snaps next to him.

It huts him like a whip and Q raises his head, forces the tremor away and nods. He'll cry later.

"Report on Number Two?" His voice is shaky but it will have to do.

"Not moving, near the..."

"Near the national gallery." Q completes while looking at Number Two's feed. "We need to secure this perimeter ! It's gonna..." M's phone rings cuting him midsentence. "explode..." he finishes for himself.

He doesn't listen to M's conversation, looks at the feed following Number Three in his car. He squints trying to find a pattern in his erratics moves but by now, half of london must be secured and maybe he's just trying to avoid the police.

"National gallery is secured." M says. "007 took down the guy."

Q turns abruptly. "I beg your pardon?"

M shakes his head. "He got a text from 005, I don't wanna know why they were meeting, but he was there, took the guy down."

"Is he alive?"

"It's 007 what do you think ?"

Q nods. Of course the guy is dead, that's why he's not moving anymore.

"Three down..." He sighs. " The last one is..." Then it hits him. Number Three is not avoiding the police. He's waiting. "The last one is waiting for the injuried to come into Great Ormond Hospital."

Relief floods through him. He's right, he missed evidences, but this piece, he knows he has it right.

"You sure?" M squints on the map where Q is tracing Number three's moves. They all wander around the same block, around the hospital. "No Bond you can't get ... I SAID NO ! I don't want you blowing up half the city ! We already lost an agent, don't add your corpse to the pile !" M yells in his phone.

Q smiles.

"I'm sure. And I'm also sure I can coaxe him near somewhere safe to take him with minimal loss."

"Do that."

And Q does. He fucked up, he fucked up big time and lost an agent. He will make this right. They will get this guy, then all the others that had anything to do with this attack. He can make this right.

 

##

Time slows down when Q is working. Somewhere, in a parallel universe also known as "the outside world" two days have passed but it felt like merely hours to Q. He blinks in the dim sunlight when Bond manhandles him and force him to leave his desk to breathe some fresh air and eat something else than... Wait when was the last time he ate anything that wasn't tea?

"Bond, I have work to do and no time to waste on... Goldfishes !"

"Your minions can handle the aftermath of a terrorist attack without you and you need some rest !"

"And how is draging me to an aquarium better than letting me sleep on the couch of my office?" Q growls as they enter the exibition.

"Have faih in me."

"I'm not that stupid !"

But Q lets himself be dragged into the aquarium because he knows better than to test Bond once he has his mind set on something. He's tempted to rush through the entire thing, lose Bond in the crowd and getting back to work, securing Q branch for any 00 intrusion... but there's jellyfishes in one of the tanks and they catch his eyes. Some of them are just pretty (or not, depends on one's aesthetic Q suppose), some other are deadly and he knows it because he uses their venom in various weapons. The aquarium is dimly lit and he has to squint to read each label and scientific facts about the species he see.

"Why did you bring me here Bond?"

"Figured it would be a nice place to make you chill a little."

Q frowns in front of one of the tanks ( this one is full of colorful shrimps that are probably not edible). "I don't need to chill, I need to do my work."

"Lemme be the judge of that. I used to be good at reading people."

"Well, clearly you've lost your edge." He didn't mean for it to come out that snarky but he can't take it back now and Bond tense next to him. They wander from room to room, meeting more and more overexcited chilren and bigger fishes untill they reach a calm spot in front of a giant aquarium full of corals and exotic life. There's some carpeted steps in front of the tank and Q sits on one of them to look at the starfishs slowly crawling their way on the coral, and the dance of multicolored scales on water. It's soothing, Bond was right. But only one of them is curently at ease and Q feels bad about his previous comment.

"Deduce me, Bond. Read me." He whispers, and in this soflty lit environment, with some light melody in the air and the faint white noise of people nearby, it sound way more seductive than he intended. He doesn't mind actually.

"Whatever I'll deduce will be something you carefully crafted for me to believe, so I don't see the point"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I knew you would like it." Bond says almost without thinking before smiling to himself. He knows what Q is doing and he actually doesn't mind that much."I knew you'd be fascinated by all the knowledge gathered here. And that the fishes would calm you. You're thinking about the cats, how Tesla would try to follow the big ones and how Volta would already be asleep on your knees. And you think I'm a bloody morron because people died two days ago and I'm preventing you from finding whoever is responsible for the attacks."

"Go on."

Bond smiles. " You know that you are important, and it scares you because last time you mattered, you screwed up big time. The two last times actually. And you think you're screwing up by being here. And you wonder how I manage to be so distanced from all the people that died."

"How do you do ?" Q asks a lump in his throat.

"I don't."

They don't touch, just sit side by side in front of a little slice of aqatic life that doesn't care if they feel bad or should be anywhere else.

"I don't." Bond says even more quietly. "I just pretend to until I can make things right."

Q nods. It makes sense.

He takes Bond's hand without looking at it. It's calloused, big and warm.

"I'll find them." He says.

"I'll pull the trigger." Bond aswers squeezing his hand gently.

For now, it will have to do.

 

##

Q tracks all the people who were involved in the bombing for days. They managed to catch the last terrorist before he blows up the hospital and that should feel like a little victory but refuses to take any rest untill everything is done and everyone is behind bars. Or dead to the ground, at this point he doesn't care. He's still fueled with rage and remorse for the loss of 005.

_(Her name was Ellen. Ellen. Her name was Ellen.)_

He snaps at everyone, barely notices when Q branch is busy or not, he works despite his burning eyes, the twists in his stomach are either stress or hunger he doesn't know. The dizzyness is either exhaustion or too much adrenaline and sugar, who cares ?

He lost count of the bathroom breaks that helped him keep track of the time and practically threw his mug at Eve when she tried to force him to go to sleep. So when Bond arrives an undetermined amount of time later, he's about to kick him out of his teritory but the agent is carrying two big boxes that catches his attention.

"What's that?"

"Your cats."

"I beg your pardon?" Q blinks stupidly like a wild animal stuck on the light.

"You haven't left this place in three day Q. And they stopped eating yesterday. Your neighbour, lovely woman by the way, says they didn't stop crying last night." Bond says with a little smile. He bends and carefully puts the two plastic cages on the floor.

"Cats don't cry."

"Well, they made a lot of noise if you prefer. Point is, they miss you."

"You've been feeding them." Q says. He feels bad, schocked even. He forgot about the cats, has it been really three days ? And Bond, bloody James Bond fed his cats ? How the hell did he get into his flat anyway ?

"I did. And I figured they would make a better job than me or Eve at reminding you to take care of yourself." The agent says. He crouched on the floor and has oppened the doors. Tesla wanders out of the box, sniffing everyting aroud her while Volta meows angrily from the bottom of his. "Your flat has too many places to hide for a cat you know." Bond says casually. He scratchs the floor in front of the cage to lure Volta out. "Took me half an hour to track him."

"He's usually under the bed or over..."

"Over the cupboard in the kitchen. I hope your flat doesn't have security cameras because I'd hate for you to see footages of me trying to get this beast into this bloody box."

Q smiles. It physically hurts to smile. He's mesmerized by Bond's fingernails that can't convince Volta to get out of the cage.

"You're bleeding."

Bond looks at his hand and shakes his head. "I survived worse." He smiles. "They both put on quite a fight when they saw the cages."

"I usually only use them to take them to the vet...You should put some antiseptic on this."

Bond has a coy smiles. "Why don't you help me do it ?"

"James I have work to do..."

"And I have bleeding hands because of your fluffballs." Tesla that spent the last two minutes purring and rubbing herself against Q's legs stops and meows. "I still love you Tesla."

Q smiles. It hurts just a little less.

"Fine. This way please."

Both the cat and the agent follow him into the lab and next to the small pharmacy they always keep well stocked because injuries often happen in R&D. Bond extends his hands in front of himself as Q starts to put some antiseptic on a cottonball then proceeds to gently clean the fine lines of blood on his hands. Countless scratches appear, going up to the wrist, and Q winces.

"I'm sorry. You should just have..."

"Don't mention it. Just... don't make my great sacrifice be for nothing. Take care of them, and yourself."

Q cleans the bruises over and over again, unable to look Bond in the eyes.

"It's my fault. It was unusual, only one bomb... I did not understand soon enough and Ellen..."

"She knew what she as doing." Bond interrupts. "It's not your fault. "

"It is." Q growls. "I should have... I should be ...I became quartermaster because I wanted to make a difference, I wanted to help and look at me ... I can't even take care of my own cats ... I'm..." He drops the bloody cotton ball on the floor and his all body shivers. He's on the verge of crying, everything is a blurr and breathing is hard. His heart pounds into his chest and soon enough between his temples and he has a big lump in his throat. "I..."

Bond's hands smell like alcohol whe he grabs his face. "Q! Look at me, Q!"

Q shakes his head and closes his eyes so he won't have to face the agent. He doesn't want to see the reflection of his own failure in his friend's face.

"No one saw it coming. There's nothing you could have done. It was not your fault!"

"You're wrong. YOU'RE WRONG !" Panic runs through Q and the only thing that prevents him from collapsing is the strong grip of Bond on his face.

"I was there Q. I heard you. You did everything that was humanly possible to avoid this mess. You did even better than that. You're not responsible for her death."

"If I hadn't sent her after this guy..."

"And if I hadn't asked her out on a date that day. If she had met me half an hour earlier. Bad things happen Q. It was not your fault."

But everything is dark, and Q can't stop trembling and he's crying now and feels ridiculous and grieving and he hates that. He can't breathe, just sob like a baby and try not to collapse on the floor.

"I ... I can't... I'm sorry I ..." He tries to leave, but Bond grips him by the shoulders and press him against his chest.

"It's okay." The agent whispers in Q's hair. "Don't fight it, let it get through you and it will be okay."

And Q clenches his fist on Bond's overpriced jacket and cries. He cries the loss of an agent, he cries days of sleepless guilt, he cries one more mistake and one more failure on his slate. And Bond holds him through all of it. Q couldn't be more grateful.

 

##

It takes four more days to track the last person involved in the attacks. By then, Bond has made a nuisance of himself almost constantly because M refused to let him go on the field. He distracted himself by feeding the entirety of Q branch and playing with the cats along expensive techs ... some of them might be lost forever now because God knows where Tesla can drag a tiny USB key when she's chased by an agent who wants to cuddle her.

"Are you out of your mind 007?" Q grumbles , barely holding up as the cat claws her way on his shoulders to escape Bond.

"I'm bored."

"I know bored kids that behave better than you do!"

Bond has a glimpse of seduction in the eyes as he steps closer to Q and delicately distangle Tesla from his cardigan. "Maybe you should make me behave..."

Q sighs. " You have atrocious catchphrases and a poor sense of timing."

Bond doesn't answer, too busy petting the growling cat. As always Volta is nowhere to be seen. Probably hiding in a drawer.As usual when Bond is this close to him, it's hard to focus. Q puts his glasses on the desk, rubs his eyes that have been itchy for the past two days.

"May I get into personnal topic?" He finally says leaning back on the desk, arms crossed over his chest. Bond nods. "I'm concerned about what you're doing here. I gave you permission to seduce me and never really though you would even try. But it feels like you're trying."

"Is it working?" Bond asks with a little smile.

"Yes. And here's the point that I'm concerned about. If you're doing that just because you can, just because you like a challenge, please say it right now." He must be delirious from sleep deprivation because it doesn't look like him to show his vulnerability like this. Strangely enough he doesn't care about the outcome of this long overdue conversation. "Because it's more complicated to work with someone who's heart you've broken than deal with dead ex lovers." He looks Bond in the eyes. "Trust me, I've been through both."

Bond doesn't smile anymore, he dropped Tesla on the floor a few words ago.

"This is not a game for me Q. Not anymore."

"Why is that ?"

"Because you make me laugh." Is Bond's surprising answer. "Not many people have this talent."

"I'm not a clown show."

"No you're not. But when you make me laugh, it's like remembering what happiness feels like. And I think it's worth trying to seduce you."

Q smiles. These are strange words coming from James Bond, and not what he expected but it seems true, and it feels real.

"I'll take better care of your heart than your tech." Bond says barely above a whisper that Q could have miss in the crowded workshop.

"Thank you."

 

##

Nightmares don't go away easily. They come back everytime sleeps takes Bond by surprise. They merge and melt dark memories in an awfull pit of emptyness and pain. He wakes up so tense his muscles and his back hurt, he can almost trace a few of his scars from the burning pain on his skin.

What was it this time? Falling probably. Someone dying. There's always someone dying.

His chest is heavy, he needs a drink.

Someone was screaming, someone he couldn't save.

The water he splashes on his face doesn't help chasing the bad feeling away, it settles in his guts, makes him nauseous and slightly dizzy.

The drink doesn't help that much either.

It's five in the morning, he's still on mandatory leave with a long empty day ahead of him. What do people on their free time? What did he use to do ?

He should book a plane ticket to somewhere far away, somewhere sunny and crowded. Find a few perople to spend time with...

It's quarter past five when he finds himself in the street, shivering in a thin jogging and a pair of baskets. Running is supposed to be therapeutic but by now it's more like a second nature to him. Chelsea is empty this time of day except for a few delivery men that nods to him as he jogs past them. There's a little bit of fog around the Thames, but he's not here for the view. He inhales and exhales cold air and it soothes a little the remains of panic from his nightmare. It takes him forty minutes to reach the MI6 headquarters building. It's like his feets decided for him to drag him here. He flashes his badge at the officer at the front door and wanders inside the building, he might as well keep training here for the day.

He's in the middle of a series of crunches when Eve enters the gym. "Q is still down there."

"And?" Bond asks raising up. 

"And it's been four days. Straight."

"What about the cats ?"

"Minions feed them. He doesn't even know what day it is. Bring him home."

Bond smiles. "Does that order come from M's office?"

"It comes from me because if I have to do it, I'll have to knock him out first."

"Isn't there violence management seminars for highly competent secretaries ?" Bond mocks.

"There is. I'm usually the one who sets them up." Eve smiles.

"Try to attend to one of them. I'd hate to do researches on your hook ups if you end up scaring all of them." Bond retorts with a smile and a little caress on the cheek. She swiftly grabs his hand and squeeze untill it almost hurts.

"Try not to have me confused with one of your bimbos."

"I wouldn't dare."

He kisses her hand. This time she smiles.

It's close to nine AM when he enters Q branch where aparently some kind of storn is happening. People are arguing loudly in every corner ( and this room has way too many corners in Bond's opinion!) and no work seems to be done. Even Q is curently snapping something at a minion who seems on the verge of crying.

"Is that too much to ask of you to do your bloody job?"

"I'm sorry sir it ..." The woman looks older than Q and positively terrified by him.

"I want results not apologies ! Get away Bond !" Q yells without even turning to the agent.

"I'm taking you home." Bond says flatly.

"You'll have to wrestle me out of here!"

The corners of Bond's lips quirk just a little at that, then tries not to laugh when Q sneezes loudly. The woman disappears on the crowd, hugging herself.

"You're being uselessly cruel to your minions. And you look sick."

"I look like everybody in England where we see the sun three days a year." Q grumbles. "And I'm perfectly fine !" He sneezes again and whipes his nose on his sleeve. "Just a little tired."

"That's why I'm taking you home. Plus, it's either me or Monneypenny... your choice."

Q makes a point to roll his eyes. Bond is prepared to drag him out of Q branch by force when the boffin sighs and nods.

"I need some sleep... Just, there's still work to do ..."

"You'll be way more efficient ten hours of sleep from now." Bond says gently. "I'll get the cats, if I can find them in this mess..."

It's actually easy to locate the animals. Tesla is curled on someone's keyboard and Volta hisses when Bond takes him out of his favorite drawer. It takes ten minutes and three suspiciously cooperative minions to put them back in their cages and when Bond joins Q to the exit door of Q branch, the boffin seem three shades lighter.

"I'm not feeling well."

"When was the last time you ate?"

Q looks at him, green eyes empty and red. " I have no idea... not hungry though..."

It takes half an hour to get into a cab then into his flat and he doesn't question it when Bond follows him inside, orders him to go take a shower and pushes pajamas in his arms. Every drop of water on his skin feels like heaven and a sharp needle at the same time, his head hurts, he's dizzy, he trembles, his eyes burn... Maybe he's more tired that he realized. When he gets out of the bathroom, Bond is sitting on his bed, two steamy mugs in hand.

"What is that?"

"Soup." Bond says lifting one mug. " And this one is a grog. I'm not leaving before you drank both of them."

"Then what? You'll read me a bedtime story?"

"Don't tempt me." Bond says with a little smile. He hands hims the bowl and Q obediently takes it, drink it under Bond's attentive gaze. It's strange, but oddly comfortable. Tesla meows at the foot of the bed and Bond bends to scratch her head.

"Get into bed Q."

"Is that how you got your reputation mister Bond?"

"I certainly did not get it by shagging sick and exhausted people. Get into bed and drink that."

Q complies, mostly because standing seems more and more like an exploit. Bond doesn't move when he gets under the covers and take the grog from him. Q smirks.

"Thank you grandma."

Bond smiles fondly. " Auntie actually. It was my aunt who made me grogs and soup when I was sick."

"It's strange to imagine you sick... and I'm just tired."

"Good, there's enough whiskey in that to knock you out so I'll be sure you get enough rest, sick or not."

Q smiles. " Does that mean that I have a brand new bottle of whiskey somewhere or do you plan on drinking it while I'm passed out?" He carefully sips a little of the grog and indeed, it tastes like boiling whiskey.

"Let's say you have a half empty bottle of whiskey in your kitchen."

"Or a half full one."

"Whatever."

Bond watches him as he drinks the grog as fast as he can, burning his tongue in the process. His head spins when he closes his eyes and he coughs, nearly chokes on his last sip.

"I'll stay untill you're asleep."

"Don't bother, the cats will keep me company." Q says, laying his head on his pillow. He winces when his back protests. He's been standing so long ... his head spins so much that he nearly misses the quiet question that comes with Bond's hand on his shoulder.

"May I ?"

And the hand slowly starts to rub circles on his neck.

"Is that how..."

"Yes Q, this is how I got my reputation." Bond cuts him. "Right now I just want you to fall asleep and carry on with my day."

Q smiles on his pillow. This is good. Bond being sarcastic and dismissing him is way more normal than Bond taking care of him like a mother.

"Yes you may."

Q is barely aware of Bonds hands woking the knots on his neck, then his shoulders. His head spins, his eyes burn, his mind is clouded by sleep deprivation... The litany should be here. He should be working, not getting a massage in his bed with the soft purring of Tesla next to him. But he couldn't get up if he wanted to. The combined effect of the grog and the soft sheets lulls him to sleep and he notices that Bond's motions gets slower along with his breathing.

Mybe he's already asleep, maybe he dreams it, but he's almost certain that he feels a soft kiss on his temple just before he blacks out completely.

 


	6. somehow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in a relationship with James Bond is hazardous, but they make it work somehow.

005, Ellen, is burried the next day and Q is stuck in bed, sneezing, chest hurting from coughing too much and basically unable to drag himself out of his nest of pillows even for pee breaks. His room smells like illness and old people when Eve and James break in, both wearing dull black clothes. Eve opens the windows and Q shivers under his blankets just before James takes him in his arms, covers and pillow included.

"What do you think you're doing ?" Q croaks angrily.

"Getting you out of this petri dish you call a room!" Bond answers and puts him, wrapped like a burrito on the couch of the living room where Tesla jumps on his kees, asking to be pet. Eve already took off her shoes and is wandering barefeet in the kitchen making tea. And coffee for Bond.

"Are you here to check on me?"

"We're mainly here to recover from this beautiful ceremony." Eve says. "It was lovely." Which Q can translate by " i _t was awful and pompous_ " from her facial expression. Bond nods from where he is sitting on the couch.

"Next time I die, please ask M not to make a speech about me."

"I'll try to remember it." Q smiles. He can't taste the tea because every organ involved in the sense of taste is dulled by his cold. He can't breathe and his ears are ringing.

"They want to make an official ceremony to celebrate the heroes of the attack, police officers, firemen..." Eve says sipping her tea.

"Me and you, Ellen even if she's dead..." Bond adds.

"Good. Make sure to tell me the exact day so I can catch some deadly and highly contagious disease by then." Q groans. "I'm not getting any kind of medal for screwing up my job and losing an agent !"

"Told you he would say that!" Eve says to Bond.

"Did I mention the Armani suit he hides in his closet and that would be perfect for the occasion?"

"You own an Armani suit ?" Eve frowns. " Wait... How did you end up in his closet Bond?"

"It's the closer I could get to be in his pants."

There's a moment of awkward silence then Q laugh. It makes him cough, but he laugh at the idea of Bond hiding in his closet, and soon enough, Eve and James laugh too.

"Still not going." Q says whiping tears from his face.

"Still want to see you in that suit !"

Q opens his mouth to say something but Eve cuts him. "I have a dress I'm dying to wear for that event so you'll behave, suit up, and be one of my dates."

"How many dates do you intend to drag into this hell?" Q groans

"Just the two of you. I like showing off."

 

##

 

Q comes back to work two days later, still coughing but looking slightly more human and carrying a lot of pastries to apologize for his former behavior.

Things goes back to almost normal, Bond gets sent on a mission in Iran, Monneypenny bosses M around, the world keeps turning. Except this time, Bond comes back with half his tech in seemingly good shape and a metal box of fine tea with a handcrafted label for Q.

Q asks him about the things he's most likely to need to blow up on his missions and when Bond gets sent to Russia three weeks later, it's with a bunch of explosives sized for doors or computers.

They meet everytime they're both avaliable and in England, Q's voice lulls Bond to sleep through their comlinks when they're far away from each other. Of course they both silently question it. This is unatural, Bond is not one to find relief in a soft voice in his hear, and Q is not one to have a soft spot for one of his coworkers.

Except they do. And neither of them want it to stop so they don't talk about it. They meet on museums where Q rants about art and Bond is bored. They meet at restaurants where Bond parade like he owns the place and Q feels out of place. They get to a casino one time and get thrown out because Q cheats and count the cards. They laugh.

It's so easy and so nice they silently decide to let it happen more and more often. They have dinner at Q's place and he forces the agent to watch Dr Who, both sprawled on the couch, the cats on their laps. Bond thinks that the sonic screwdriver is useless and stupid.

"It's a doctor James !" Q rolls his eyes. "He fixes people and situations, hence the screwdriver, he needs a tool, not a weapon!"

"I'd rather have a weapon!" Bond grumbles.

"That's why I never designed you any sonic screwdriver."

Bond smiles. " Tell me you tried to make one for yourself !"

"I did." Q smiles too. "It's actually useless."

And Bond smiles and puts an arm around Q. Because it feels natural, because he feels good and for a moment there's nothing else in his mind than the purring of Volta and the soft sigh of Q when he leans on him and blinks lazily. And Bond realizes that he's slowly, surely, falling in love, and there's nothing he wants to do about it.

The following morning he's sent to a new mission, an easy and quick one. Gathering informations and bringing them back to M takes him two days top. Monneypenny gives him their position so he can report as soon as possible.

"What the hell are you doing in a hospital?" He groans over the phone.

"M had a meeting with someone important and it's not your place to ask questions 007! Just come over, this might take a while. And bring something to eat, I'm starving and I'm NOT eating any hospital food !"

Bond manages to pick up some decent food on his way to the hospital and tracks Monneypenny's GPS signal down to a brightly lit room full of ... Bubbles.

"What the bloody hell..."

"Don't wake them up!"

Monneypenny is sitting by one of the bubbles that turns out to be cribs, holding a bunch of covers in her arms. She extends a hand to grab whatever Bond brought to eat without raising an eye on him.

"Why are you in a nursery with a baby Monneypenny? Should I be informed of something ? Do I have to kill someone?"

She smiles and shakes her head.

"This is Emma. The baby Q and you saved from the ..."

"I remember." Bond cuts her. He leans a little closer to have a look at the baby that's probably around eight months old now. Big blue eyes looks at him above a toothless smile. "Is she sick?"

Monneypenny nods.

"Poor health conditions back then, and she was already born with a little heart condition. She'll have a surgery in two weeks. It took a long time to get her healthy enough to survive it."

Bond extends a hand to the cheek of the baby and she tries to chew on his fingers.

"Q was babbling about taking her to eat sushis when she'll be old enough."

"Trust him to have already invented something to remind him of it in ten years." Monneypenny says with a smile.

They stay in silence for a moment untill she puts the baby back in her crib. Emma starts crying and Eve shushes her, rocking the crib slowly.

"It makes me wonder of what I'm missing." She says softly.

"Never took you for the kind of woman who wanted a baby." Bond smiles.

"Never thought I'd like to ... But living this life... even if I'm not a field agent anymore, it's too dangerous to drag anyone in there. Not a lover, even less a husband, and babies are out of the way too... It's lonely sometimes."

Bond nods. He understands her more than he would care to admit. He never believed he'd be old one day. Dying young was part of the job description, but now... Now he understands why people want to settle down, to feel calm and loved and comfortable, and above all, have someone by their side to chase the darkness and loneliness away. He gently puts a hand on her shoulder and squeeze.

"It doesn't have to be. If you ever have a kid, you know that all of MI6 would be looking after both of you. She or he would be the most protected child of all England, royal babies aside."

Eve smile.

"And with a mother like you... who would be dumb enough to threat your offspring?"

This times, she smiles directly at him.

"It makes you wonder too isn't it ?"

Bond reluctantly nods.

"Except you're not about to adopt a little girl." Monneypenny keeps talking and Bond shoots her a dazzled look.

"You want to adopt her?"

"I'm considering it." She says. " That's what I'm here while M is at his super top secret meeting."

"Ask Q to hack your file and put you on top of the adoption list. He'll be extatic about it."

Eve laughs ad drags him out of the nursery.

"I might if I need." The hallway is empty and she seems to remember that she's still holding untouched food in her hands. She takes a big bite of it, thanking Bond with a little nod.

"Are you considering finally making a real move on Q ?" She asks bluntly.

Of course she had to ask. She's their friend, and she likes the idea of them together. It still feels like Bond should deny. Like she's suggesting something horrible or illegal. Bond is no stranger to horror or breaking the law, he usually doesn't really care.

"Dragging someone in this life..." He says slowly "It's hazardous, I'm not sure I want to put that on his shoulders."

"Q is a big boy, he can defend himself. And he can handle you. Not many people can say that much. Plus, you love him."

"I don't..."

"You love him James." She says sternly.

"Yes Ma'am."

Where is M when Bond needs to be saved from an uncomffortable discussion?

##

Eve likes to show off indeed, but both Bond and Q are willing to admit that she has good reasons too. She is utterly gorgeous in a cream gown that hugs her body and sparkly high heels. Her skin glows, her earrings match her smile and Bond smiles too, offering her his arm when she exits her cab for this stupid heroes ceremony.

"You are a sight for sore eyes." He compliments her.

"You're quite good looking too." She holds her arm to let Q grab it. "And you're stunning Q. Good clothes look good on you."

Q nods without a word. He's uneasy. Not because he has two gorgeous partners for this event, not because everyone looks at him like he's straight out of Hell, not because he lost the habit to have soft silk and well cut dress pants on him. He's uneasy because everyone looks at him like he's some kind of superhero, and he regrets that Bond convinced him to dress for the event.

He wants to go back to his couch, his cats, his last season of Doctor Who and forget about all of this. Eve gently squeezes his arm. "It's gonna be alright." She says.

"None of this is alright."

M greets them from across the room that's already crowded. People talk to Eve or Bond like they've been raised together and even Q is greeted with an enthusiasm he cannot match. It's like dancing on corpses... don't these people realize that they're celebrating the failure of an entire system? That they are cheering over people that died because all of England let down a few of her children?

Breathing is hard, the lump in his throat makes him cough when he tries to drink something to calm his nerves. He needs to escape before he gets another panic attack. They happen more and more often these days, often triggered by too many people or stress. He makes his way out of the door, leans on the brick wall , hands in his pockets. It would be nice to smoke right now, just to pretend that he's out there for a good reason.

"You feel alright?"

Q nods. "I'm fine James. You didn't have to check on me."

The agent leans on the wall next to him, he doesn't seem to care that he has no good reason for being here except to check on Q. He waits for something to happen. Panic, anger, one of these longs rants Q loves so much... He waits.

"How do you manage to get through this masquerade so often?"

Bond smiles. "I don't. I usually find some good company and ditch the event to bring her home."

Q chuckles. "I bet you do." Bond is mesmerizing in his Tom Ford suit. Since he saw him a couple hours ago, Q can't help but imagining what it would feel to press his hands under the white jacket, on the soft silk of his waiscoat. How he would carefully open each pearlescent button untille he can reach the black shirt and the skin underneath. How this skin would feel under his palms.

And it's not only lust or a basic suit kink. He's thought about caressing Bond more time than he cares to remember. How the agent would react to have his scars touched, how nice it would be to massage him, pay him back for the time he waisted taking care of him. And how good it would feel to wrap him in comfort and tenderness since Q knows very well how much Bond lacks in this department.

He casts a side glance to the agent and the question comes out of his mouth without filter.

"What if instead of a beautiful woman, you take me back home tonight?"

Bond smiles. For once, it reaches his eyes and Q's heart skips a beat.

"I thought you'd never ask!"

The second they get into Q's flat, Bond finds himself pined to the door, with an armful of boffin kissing him greedily and it makes him want to smile. It's good to feel honestly desired. It's both sweet and unexpected and Q's moves are gentle, almost reverent when he slides his hands under Bond's jacket and make it fall to the floor. Bond says nothing, lets Q set the pace and soon, he's pulled away from the door and onto the bedroom where Q pushes him against the bed. Bond falls with a smile.

"You've made your bed? Were you expecting company tonight?"

"I changed the sheets this morning." Q smiles. He crawls over Bond one leg on eache side of his hips and starts to unbutton the agent's shirt. "Figured I'd like to come home from this awful evening and fall asleep on clean sheets."

Bond can't help but think it's cute. In the yellow light, Q's eyes seems almost hazel, he's still entirely dressed and his suit makes things to Bond that should not be allowed. He grabs a fistful of Q's hair and pull him closer before kissing him. It's not like their very first kiss five minutes ago. This one is hesitant, full of unasked questions, exploring and Bond likes it more than he should. Q ruts against him, pressing their hard on against each other with little moans that makes Bond want to take him right here right now.

"You're overdressed." He says, panting. But Q simply smiles against his lips. He's done unbuttoning James' shirt and pushes the agent against the pillows, taking full advantage of his position above him to look at the long expanse of naked skin against his clean sheet. The scars are white against Bond's tanned torso. One above his right clavicle where Monneypenny shot him. Three across his abdomen, probably thanks to some vicious beast. A few more on his arms and Q kisses them all, maps them with his tongue and his hands untill James is panting, painfully hard under him. He makes a quick work of the belt and the suit pants, leaving James in only his underwear when the agent suddenly sits and wraps his arms around him.

"Enough." He groans in Q's hear. "Clothes off, now."

Q smiles and kiss him, loses himself in Bond's cologn. Grey vetiver and spices. Bond hands are busy undressing him as they kiss, and his heart beats incredibly fast, and he's dizzy because this is finally happening and he wonders what took him so long to realize that he likes James. Love James.

He stops, schocked by his own thoughts, hands still gripped on James shoulders, his tights still around the agent's waist.

"Something wrong?" James croaks with a raspy voice. His hands have stopped exploring his back under Q's shirt. Q shakes his head. He's fine.

They kiss again, pants fly around the room scaring one of the cats and they fall on the bed laughing as they both explore the other's body. Bond is gorgeous and Q would like to have more eyes to see him whole, more hands to caress every part of him at the same time. And James looks at him like he's something precious and rare and it's been long, too long since he felt special for someone. His heart skips a beat when James brings two fingers to his lips, pulling gently and Q opens his mouth, sucks both digits, carefully nips at one of them and has the pleasure to see Bond shiver and bite his lips. Then a hand wraps itself around his member and Q whimpers around Bond's fingers.

"You're not playing fair." He pants, eyes almost closed as Bond strokes him slowly.

"Never have, never will."

Q grins and pushes him on the bed once more, makes quick work of both their underwear and comes back to kiss him. This time, both of their hands are on their cocks, caressing, stroking, slowly learning what makes the other moans in pleasure. It's been a long time since Q had someone in his bed, not since Jonathan actually and he kisses James to forget about it. It's James that is here, whispering sweet nothings in his hear, arching his back under Q's ministrations, coming under his hand and gripping him so hard that Q comes too with a whimper of pain and pleasure. It's james who's blue eyes carry him through his orgasm, and it's James that kiss him, a smile on his face as he lays him onto the spare pillows, not allowing him to catch his breath for a long moment.

It takes Q a solid minute to get down of his high.

"We should clean up."

"Humm..." Bond wraps himself around Q, his nose on te crook of his neck, not caring that they are both covered in sweat and come, and pulls the covers back over them. "Later." Q laugh quietly. It's safe here with James, it's comfortable, it's good.

 

##

Being in a relationship with James Bond comes with lots of very high ups and very low downs. They barely have time to see each other which may be a good thing since they disagree on so many topics that they can't stay more than a week together without a fight. Their fights are ugly, Q can be cruel and hurtful when he's angry, and Bond, always cold and composed makes him even more mad. They make up around a cup of coffee. Q only drinks coffee when he's exhausted or as a sign of peace toward James, it makes him a little hyperactive and dizzy and when they kiss and undress each other ( because that happens almost every time), it's with trembling hands and the bitter taste of the beverage on their tongues.

They make it work somehow.

Bond never comes to see Q the day (or night) he comes back from a mission. He reports to headquarter, gets back to his almost empty flat and gets a shower. He scrubs himself raw under the hotest water he can stand, rips any bandage medics had put on him, scrubs some more with antiseptic, shampoo, various shower gels, rinse everything off and start over and over untill he feels clean again. Untill his last mission gets drowned on scented soap, untill he can think of himself as a human being again.

The next day, he goes to Q's flat and feeds the cats. Most times, he spends the day alone until Q comes back from work. To be honest, Q always manage to come back earlier on these days. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don't.

Q always makes sure Bond eats something before they touch each other. It's an unspoken rule between them. Q wants Bond, not 007 in his bed, and he makes sure his lover is fed and rested before they make love. Because this is not about sex. This is about love and reminding James who he is.

"Does it bother you when I have sex with other people ?" James asks one night, his hands slowly caressing Q's back.

"Should I be bothered ?"

'Probably."

"I'm not." Q says and he kisses him softly on the lips. "You think of yourself as a tool. Something that's meant to be used and not loved or taken cared of. And when sex is required for your work, you see yourself as a whore. Deep down, you're an old mysoginist so you think it means you're a bad person, or weak, or broken. And I'm just romantic enough to hope that one day I'll make you realize how wrong you are."

Q is afraid of course. James is hard to kill, harder than most men, but luck and skills can't always protect him, and Q's gadget are not always enough to bring him back unharmed. But it's Bond's mind that Q is more concerned about. There is something broken about James and Q doesn't know where it comes from. Was it Vesper ? Or the countless killing ? Is it the armor the agent has to wear when he's afraid or some conditionned reflex?

Whatever it is, Q tries his best to help Bond recover when they are together. With a set of firm but unspoken rule, they manage to avoid any trigger. When Bond comes back from a mission, he never, ever tops. This was not a conscious move from Q, more a reflex coming from the slight fear of what Bond could do to him in a moment of confusion. Bond hates feeling submissive, and frankly, he's the toppiest bottom Q has ever met. But he takes a deep breathe everytime and lets Q undress him with madening slow and tender gestures. He lets the boffin kiss every inch of his skin, caress any new wound or scar, lick them , kiss them and slowly, really slowly, he relaxes. It's a long and tedious process everytime to bring back James from under the skin of the agent 007, but Q does it everytime.

"Here you are." He smiles when James starts to kiss him a little different, when his hands gets soft and caring instead of possessive and firm. "Here you are." Then, and only then, James is ready to let Q make love to him.

Angry sex is off limits because James could kill Q with his bare hands if he wanted. Any form of restrain is a trigger for James, just thinking of any form of pain makes them wince. Their sex life is so boring and vanilla that it would destroy James' reputation. None of them care.

One time, Bond wakes up to find his lover curled on a chair next to the window of the living room, not even sipping tea, unaware of Tesla that meows softly hoping fr some treat.

"It still feels like cheating on him." Q says softly. Bond doesn't answer, just puts his hand on Q's shoulder. "Sorry, go back to bed I'll..."

"I thought I could erase an old love from someone's mind once. I'm not making this mistake twice Q."

"Jonathan is dead. I should get over it."

"And I should get over Vesper. Especially after what she did." Bond pulls a chair and sits next to him. "Guess you can live with your past, but it will always be a part of you."

"You're being uncharacteristically wise."

"Blame it on the late hour." Bond smiles and yawn.

"If there's ever a choice to make... beween you and national safety, or between you and what I think is the right thing to do ... I won't choose you." Q says, eyes lost on the street outside the window. He's not wearing his glasses and the world is blurry. "I loved him with all my soul, and I still chose the greater good over him."

"Sounds fair." Bond says. " And I'll never love you like I loved her. I don't think I have it in me anymore. You'll never be my whole world lie she used to be."

"Good. Because that sounds like an awfull burden to carry."

They make it work somehow. Sometimes they do some of these things that couples do, they shop together, listen to music, watch TV. Most times they work, Q keeps Bond safe and mostly sane, Bond keeps Q from being too exhausted and mostly healthy.

It's good to have someone to come back to. It's good to have someone you can be scared for. It's good to get back in a flat that feels like hom. It's good to be a human being in the arms of someone you love, and not just a double oh agent or the Qartermaster.

Sometimes, life strikes them at the most annoying times, like when Q is sucking James on a lazy sunday night.

"One day" Q says rolling a condom on James' member "you'll be off mission long enough to ditch this thing, and I'll make you come in my mouth."

James clench his fists on Q's hair and moans as the boffin takes him in his mouth again. Q is a perfectionist and in the blow job department, Bond is a really compliant practice tool. But this time, bloody worst time ever, something is wrong. Everything went dark and it's not because pleasure made James close his eyes. Q saw it too and they both shoot an angry look to the lamps around them.

"Whoever caused this blackout, I'm going to kill them. Slowly." Bond growls. The mood is gone and their evening of sex ruined, and he's pissed.

"I'll reanimate them so you will be able to take your time." Q says. It's dark in the room but Bond knows he's smiling.

"That's why I love you."

Q chuckles and rolls out of bed digging his phone out of his pants to turn on the light of the screen. Bond can see him frown and move to the window. No light comes in when he opens the curtains. All the street around the flat are in the dark.

"James..."

Both of their phones buzzes at the same time.

"I think it's time to go to work."

 

 

 


	7. Blackout

Q blinks in the night, he feels slightly uncomfortable. Nights in London are never that dark. Usually, you can't see anything but a black sky because the city lights dims the stars utill you can't see them anymore. Tonight, Q can't count the stars above them, neither can he see Bond next to him. There's no streetlamp, not a single light behind the windows. Q frowns.

"Something's wrong." He says. "Public lightning and houses are not powered by the same complex... they can't be both off at the same time."

Bond groans something and grabs his hand. "We're taking my car." He says. But Q pulls at his hand and makes him look to the traffic light at the angle of the street.

"They're off too. I bet whatever you want that there's already several car crashes around the city."

Bond frowns. "A total blackout ? Did it ever happen?"

Q shakes his head. "Not that I know... And guess what's powered by electricity?"

"Half the subway...Great. We'll have to walk."

It's harder than it seems to walk on dark streets, at least for Q. Bond has some training and a good sense of orientation. He presses Q's hand in his. They pass near groups of confused people, and as predicted several accidents. Not a single ambulance or police car.

"That's strange." Bond says after quickly making sure no one is dangerously wounded. Q tries to call to the emergencies but all the lines are occupied.

"Maybe too much accidents happening at the same time..." Q mutters. "We need to go to headquarters quickly."

It takes them almost an hour and when Q enters Q branch, he's sweaty, shivering and already exhausted. "Report." He yells. And several people give him informations. Every single powersource in the country stopped working at exactly 9h51 PM. Q frowns.

"Are you sure about the time?"

The minions nods. "The only powersources remaining are generators in hospitals and a few other important places. Including here."

"And the consequences are already disastrous." Says a new voice over the crowd. Suddenly everyone stops talking and stands a little straighter as M and the prime minister come next to Q.

"M, mister prime minister." Q greets them. " We'll start geting the power back up as soon as possible."

The prime minister nods and Q goes back to his standing desk, takes a deep breath and tries to clear his head. He smiles when he realises that the litany in his head is gone. It's been a while since words or ideas got stuck in his head and it's a relief to feel at full capacity again. Maybe he should thank James for that because obviously the agent has a big part to play in this. But now is not the time. His eyes are glued to the multiple screens, his hands are flying on the keyboard, trying to locate the source of the blackout. He speaks out loud for M and the Prime minister, but mostly because the sound of his own voice grounds him and help him think straight.

"There are several powerstations for London and all of them went down at exactly the same time... That was not a group of humans, no one is that in sync. It comes from a computer... something that's plugged to all these power stations, or has all the access codes..." Q tracks the source of the signal that must have been sent to the powersources but something is wrong. "Something's wrong... There was a signal but it's a multiple frequency one... and encrypted too..."

"What does that mean ?" Cuts the Prime minister. " Can you track it yes or no?"

"Oh I can... I actually don't need to ... this signal came from here... from .." Q squints at the scheme on his screen and points to an empty station on his left. "From this computer. Nice. Really nice."

"How is that nice?" M cuts abruptly. "Does that mean we have a mole?"

Q nods absent mindedly. " Told you about that months ago. And this is a shared computer, everyone including me has access to it, and no one turned it on at 9.51 tonight..."

"You found out pretty fast for someone who just came here Qartermaster." Says the prime minister. He's behind Q so the boffin can't see him, but he can't miss the accusation in his tone and the stifness he sees in his minions postures. He actually doesn't really care, he's in front of a really interesting mystery and right now he couldn't care less about the prime minister being suspicious of him.

"If you imply that I hacked my own security system, I must say I'm flattered. But at 9.51 I was in the middle of a blowjob. I'm not that good at multitasking."

"Watch your tone Q!" M growls.

"Sorry, I'm not that good at multitasking. _Sir."_ Q grins. The litany is gone, replaced by a genuine happiness to be challenged and a big part of James snark. Another thing to thank him for later. "Mole or not, we've been hacked. For a total of twenty eight seconds. Just the time needed to connect to the various devices controling London's powersources... brilliant !"

"Brilliant ?" The Prime minister parrots. " Are you out of your mind ?"

"The process is brilliant... the hacking was quick enough to go under my security systems, it used one single computer who had the security access to connect to another network, then another and another... like a tree branch... It's genius... It's something like a chain of twenty hacking of the most secured servers of England in less than five minutes... It must have left worms in the servers , they all shut the power at 9.51... it's ..." Q's smile falters. "It's genius."

"How did your security systems let it pass?"

Q tracks something on the first computer to have been hacked and frowns. "Because the hack occured thanks to a tiny program that was designed miroring my codes."

"What does that mean ?" The prime minister asks clearly thinking that Q is trying to fool him. And clearly pissed off.

"It means that someone that codes exactly like me created a program that my security system would recognize as my work and never detect as a worm or a virus."

"Sounds like you designed it yourself and are trying to cover it up."

"Sounds like it." Q nods. "Except that program was put on my secured server a day I was not here..."

"You could have done it from any computer !" The prime minister accuses.

Q turns to face him, a stern expression on his face "There is no computer in interogation rooms." He says. "The day this program was included in Q's branch server, I was interogated by Scotland Yard and MI6 shrinks then M himself for a fight I started in a bar two days before. Feel free to check the security footages."

M grins but hides it behind a fake cough.

"Can you put the power back on?" The prime minister asks through gritted teeth. " And find whoever is responsible of that?"

Q nods.

He goes back to work. He has to hack into his ows security system to get rid of the unwanted program, then use all his access to try and turn the power back on, but all access codes have changed, of course, and whoever the hacker is, he or she drastically improved the security around London's powersources ...

Q is losing time, losing track of the time. The only thing that reminds him that the clock is ticking is the news feed that pops up on his computer once in a while. Lots and lots of accidents due to the complete lack of traffic lights, emergencies rooms are full. Fire department overwhelmed by fires due to countless homes using too many candles. Stock market crashing because all of the City is deprived of energy which means no transactions at all. Banks are closed. People are starting to freak out.

It's been six hours.

His eyes burn, his head hurts. And something is wrong. And he knows what. It's just impossible, strictly impossible. It's been hours now and he's got nothing. He's cranky, angry and he barely managed to hack into one of the powersources, the smallest one, the least important one.

"How long can the generators in the hospital work?"

"Two days top."

Fuck. Q is good, he knows he is. But at this rate, he'll need at leas one week of working non stop to get the power back on. People are going to die. And it's because he did not see a freaking line of code in his own device. People are going to die and it's his fault.

The litany comes back.

_(People are dying because of you, work faster!)_

Nine hours and his legs are giving up, he needs to sit. Someone force a water bottle in his hand, someone gives him something to eat, his vision is blurry. He smells grey vetiver and a hand on his head.

"You can do it Q." Bond's stern voice grounds him. Q closes his eyes and nods. He just need one minute to collect himself. Just one minute. His head spin.

_(Back to work, people are dying because of you!)_

Twelve hours.

The news feed gets worse every hour. People are scared, angry, threatens to riot. Londonians get their informations throught their phones, batteries are dying and it's now forbiden to use your car because of safety issues. Small hospitals and clinics are transfering their patients in case their generators give up...

And Q's heart stops. The codes change right under his eyes, like they're mocking him. Every little source of power he managed to turn back on is now dead. And it's spreading now. Birmingham is the second one to experience blackout at 10 AM. Then Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol then Q loses track of the cities. There is now a bright map of England on Q branch and one by one, the cities turn dark as their electricity gets cut off.

"I can't do it..." Q says with a shaky voice.

It's been twenty hours.

"I can't do it." He amits in front of his exhausted minions. "We failed. I failed." He closes his eyes and sighgs. "He's better than me. I can't get the power back on."

Because in the last fifteen hours, he trackd down each and every person that could possibly have hacked his system in such a clever way. He crossed one by one every name on his short list, even contacted a few of them. Every logic and possible explanation has been put aside as they turned to be dead ends.

The only thing that remains is the impossible one, the one Q felt in his guts was the right answer, however impossible. He would like to storm out of Q branch but he's way too tired so he just exits slowly with his head bowed in a big silence.

He passes Monneypenny's dimly lit desk, ignoring her calls and enters M's office interrupting a meeting with the Prime Minister.

"Q what are you..."

"I know who's responsible for the blackout." M's office is dark, the only light source is the weak sunset outside the window. Q looks at the prime minister then back to M. "You don't want an audience for what I'm about to say."

"I'm the prime minister Quartermaster ! I'll stay."

M nods. Q sighs.

"Jonathan Davenport is responsible for the blackout." He says. The words hurt him, his tongue, his heart, his ears.

"He's dead Q." M says in a paternal and sweet tone.

"Really? Or did the former M forget to inform you of some secrets sir?"

M frowns and rises from his seat. "Mister Prime minister... I think I need a word alone with my quartermaster."

 

##

"Who did I bury two years ago?" Q asks coldly.

"Q, I need to explain to you why my predecessor ..."

"I'm not interested in why, sir. I'm asking you who?"

M sigh and turns his back to Q to open up a vault in the wall behind him. He hands Q a manilla file.

"The former M hoped you never had to find out. I myself found out months after I replaced her. The body was an anonymous homeless person we disguised."

Q eyes the file, it's full of ... he doesn't really care, his mind is blank.

_(He's alive. Jonathan is alive. He's alive.)_

"So you knew. Ma'am M made him disappear... did he even write his suicide letter or was it part of the trick?"

"He did write it. The suicide scenario was his idea."

Q has a big lump in his throat. He doesn't dare thinking why Jonathan would willingly fake his suicide, the answer would be too obvious, too painfull...Anger rises in him and it takes everything in him not to throw the file across the office.

"Q, I'm..."

"I don't care." Q cuts him. "I don't fucking care about what you feel right now. I just hope you realize that whatever you did is curently costing you millions of pounds and hundreds of lives."

"Why would he do something like that ? M and him had an agreement."

Q has a disrespectful little laugh that irks M more than it should.

"Oh I'm sure she had an agreement. But Jonathan never really agreed on anything that was not his idea. And if she truly believed that he would hold his part of the contract, then the bitch deserved to be betrayed."

"Show a little respect Q !" M scowls him.

Q frowns. His green eyes are clouded by rage. He's pale and clenches his fists on the unopened file.

"Showing respect ? For what ? For whatever reason she had to make him disappear ? For stealing two years of my life ? For providing Jonathan anything he needed to paralyze the country ?"

"What are you talking about ?"

Q smirks. "I don't know why she needed him gone. But I know she had no leverage on him. He had no family, no criminal reccord. The only things she could use to make him agree to whatever she asked of him was threatening me or offering him money. Threatening me was out of the question because she needed me as quartermaster. Money it was then. Lots of it. Enough to sustain him for the rest of his life. Probably more than enough to let him build a supercomputer capable of causing a major blackout in the whole country."

Q is babling now, just listening to the sound of his voice and the burning pit of rage and sadness in his guts. His eyes are set on his superior but he doesn't really look at him, he just makes a point to make the man uneasy, to hold him accountable for his actions. Ma'am M is dead, he can hate her all he want, it won't change a thing. But Mallory is here, alive, and he knew and said nothing.

Q puts the file on M's desk.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't bring the power back. Jonathan was always a step ahead of me. He thinks like me, he knows me. That's how he managed to get past my defenses and use my own computers against England. Whatever I will try, he'll already have a plan set up to block me. And that's only if he felt lazy and did not plan something to trick me into making more harm than good."

M says nothing, wonders what to think about all of this. Q seems so certain that his former lover is responsible of all this... Could he be wrong ?

"I'm going home." Q says.

"You can't... You have work to do ..."

"Clean up your own mess M." Q spits back. "I'm going home."

Nobody tries to hold him back on his way out of MI6 building.

_(He's alive. He's alive.)_

 

##

James knows. Q can sense it as soon as his partner enters the flat. His rational brain tells him that M probably told him the whole story, but part of him think that by now, James knows him well enough to guess when something big happens to him.

_(He's alive. He's alive.)_

"Jonathan is alive." Q says. He's sitting in front of the window, back straight on an uncomfortable chair, Tesla purring on his lap. Outside, the world is slowly collapsing as the sun sets, coloring the sky with bright colors. The streets are already dark.

James doesn't say a thing, Q hears him wandering in the flat. He pictures him in his mind. Taking off his jacket, his shoes, puting the kettle on, pouring warm water in a mug. The smell of high end black tea fills his nostils when James holds him the mug and crouches in front of him, blocking Q's view of the street.

"He's causing the blackout." Q says. He wraps his hands around the hot mug and around James' fingers. "And I don't know what to do."

He doesn't know what the worst part is. Discovering that his former love is alive. Discovering that he's now a criminal. Or reminding himself so vividly that love dies hard. Actually, his love never died and he feels too guilty to look James in the eyes.

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I don't think so."

"Good." James says, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Time to get drunk then."

For once, it seems like a wonderfull idea.

They don't lit candles, they drink side by side, watching the world collapsing by the window untill it's too dark, then they drink with their eyes closed and James hand on Q's tight.

It's five past six, the next morning when James gets a phone call from M. He hangs up without saying a word and looks at the screen like the thing might bite him. They're in bed, still half clothed and Q feels a little nauseous.

"Jonathan contacted the Queen." James says in a raspy voice.

"Of course he did." Q groans.

"He gave her his terms and condition for turning the power back on."

Q smirks. James seems... lost and it's almost cute.

"He wants me." Q says. It's a statement, not a question and James nods.

"I won't let it happen."

Q smiles, rolls on his side and wraps his arms around James. He still smells like booze and vetiver, like sweat and day old shirt, he smells like home and safety. His lips are the same, his hands clench on Q's shoulders, on his hair, on his ass. Q nips at his jaw, kisses him desperately and rest his forehead against James shoulder.

"Of course you will. It's me against England. It's not even a question. I'll go."

James wraps his arms around him, drag him on top of him like a blanket and they lay like that for a few minutes.

"How long untill someone burst through the door to make sure I don't escape ?" Q asks in a whisper.

"They were probably on their way even before M call."

Q closes his eyes, wraps himself over James, close enough to feel his heart beat throug their shirts.

"I hope you don't mind, but when MI6 finest agents will come, they will find me just like this. Half drunk and in bed with you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." James answers. He kisses Q softly. "I'll kill them all if you want."

Q has a weak smile. " Please, don't."

 


	8. The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just give me enough time to find you okay?"
> 
> Q doesn't say a word, he's crying against the agent chest untill James pushes him away at arm lenght, and looks at him in the eyes. His image is blurry because of the tears on Q's glasses but the boffin can see the killer behind his lover features.
> 
> "Say it Q. Say that whatever it takes you'll buy me enough time to come and rescue you."
> 
> Q nods.
> 
> "Say it !"
> 
> "I'll ... I'll stay alive as long as I can."
> 
> "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to apologize for the delay but life got pretty hectic around here and recent events made it hard to write the scenes I had in mind.   
> Actually I did not write them. This chapter was supposed to have a lot more violence and horrific things, but I couldn't find it in me to write them ! 
> 
> Trigger warning : torture

"I need to know everything about him." Bond says in the car that brings them to MI6 HQ. He doesn't bother lowering his voice even if three armed agents listen to him.

"M has a file that will tell you more than I could."

"Everything that will not be into the file."

Q sighs.

"The only thing I can think of is that his suicide letter mentionned that he did it out of spite that I got promoted quartermaster instead of him. Coming from Jonathan, it wasn't a surprise that he chose to take his own life rather than feeling let down. It's not even a surprise that he probably spent these last two years ploting his revenge. It's the only thing there is to know about him."

Q rests his head on the window and closes his eyes. "Ma'am M should have promoted him instead of me ..."

"She did not do it because you, at least, did not turn out to be a sociopath." Bond says. He takes his hand and squeeze it. Q smiles weakly.

"Right now, I can't say it was the best of her decisions."

They drive past several accidents and groups of people holding paper tags asking for informations, or the government demission.

Q doesn't say a word when M explains to him all the plans they have to track Jonathan through him. Doesn't react when one of his minions bugs him with tiny cameras, throat microphone, nano GPS and all the latest tech from Q branch.

"We'll have a party we you'll be back Boss." Says the minion despite her shaky hands. She is younger than Q, he knows how smart she is, her main field of study is to built a device that can read people's expressions. Like a good lie detector. He smiles and press her hands.

"Don't buy champain yet. " He says. "I don't really plan on making it out of there alive."

Saying the words makes them all the more true and his determination flinch as he sees tears fills her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Bond growls behind him. Q can feel anger radiate from him, feel the fear spread through Q branch, making the minions bow their head.

"I'm sorry you have to live all of this again James..." He turns toward his lover, not caring that they have an audience. "I'm sorry but I know Jonathan ... "

James grabs him by the elbow, his eyes are ice cold, his teeth gritted and Q suddenly feels like a pray about to be eaten.

"Don't say that ! Don't you even think about it ! I won't let you die !"

It takes every ounce of bravery Q can collect not to break into tears right away. His belly is a cold pit of fear and stress. He had no sleep, his chest feels full of angry beasts.

"He won't go that easy on me James. He'll want revenge ... I'm not dead yet... maybe he plans on keeping me alive as an insurance ... I don't know..." And then Q loses it, his limbs tremble, his mind is blank, tears falls down his cheeks. "I don't know..."

No one says a word as James squeeze him against his chest and press a soft kiss against his lips.

"Just give me enough time to find you okay?"

Q doesn't say a word, he's crying against the agent chest untill James pushes him away at arm lenght, and looks at him in the eyes. His image is blurry because of the tears on Q's glasses but the boffin can see the killer behind his lover features.

"Say it Q. Say that whatever it takes you'll buy me enough time to come and rescue you."

Q nods.

"Say it !"

"I'll ... I'll stay alive as long as I can."

"Good."

 

##

Someone comes to take him from MI6 HQ. Face hidden behind a mask, generic dark clothes, gloves, a car without a plate. Cameras could follow them if only the CCTV was still working. The car is old, smells like alcohol and Q feels his pulse rise as he's blindfolded on the passenger seat. His kidnapper is surprisingly gentle and his hands tremble. This one knows he's already a dead man Q thinks.

They drive in silence at an unsteady rythm that prevents Q from calculating how far they get from London. The driver takes several unecessary turns and stops to lose him even more and Q smirks. The panicks overwhelms him but this is clever. Clever also the impressive amount of times he change cars and drivers during the day.

He's hungry, thirsty and nedds to pee badly when the car finally stops and he's led into a room. He hears a door lock behind him and takes a few moments before cautiously raising his hands to his head to get rid of the blindfold. He blinks as the light hits his eyes. Apart from the fact that the room has no window, it looks like a student's home. One middle sized open space with a bed in a corner, an empty desk, little couch on the center of the room in front of a little table and thankfully , toilets hidden behind a curtain.

First thing he does is relieving himself and even if he's half out of his mind from worry, it's good. There's a tiny sink to wash his hands but no soap anywhere. He smirks, that too is clever. Jonathan knows what Q can do with basic stuff...

The door unlocks and he knows that it's Jonathan this time. His heart drops to his chest, his blood runs cold, he feels shaky again. There's a lump in his throat and a pounding in his head when he turns toward his ex lover.

Maybe he believed that Jonathan would now look like someone barely coming back from the dead. But he looks exactly the same as the last time Q saw him. Still young, still beautiful. Dressed in suit pants and a casual t shirt.

And everything comes back to Q in a rush. How much he loved this man. A lifetime spent together. All the plans they made and how everything flew out the window in a few days. Jonathan doesn't say a word. Q waits, hopes for a sign that the other feels the same way as he does, but nothing comes.

"You go by the name Q now." Jonathan says as a greeting.

Q nods.

"It doesn't suit you, Adrien."

The name hits Q like a bullet in the chest. It's been a long time since someone used it. His folks give him pet names, for everyone else he's Q. But his name brings back bittersweet memories of good times that are long gone.

"Comes with the job description." He says. "Did you make me go through an electromagnetic field ?" He shows his wristwatch to Jonathan. " It stopped. And every tech I carry with me too I suppose."

Jonathan nods.

"Nice. How did you hack into my servers ?"

"Double Oh Seven's belt." Jonathan says. He sits on the couch and smiles. " Had it replicated when he worked for The Boss, hid a tiny device of my own making in it. Took me just a few little impulses to connect to your servers."

Q frowns. "You worked with this organization?"

Jonathan nods. " I've been busy for a long time Adrien. And all of it was to get my hands on you."

"Well, you've got me now." Q says through gritted teeth. " You can turn the power back on."

Jonathan remains silent and his smirk just grows a little. Q feels his heart beating impossibly faster in his chest, he's sweating now and can't hide his tremor.

"Turn the power back on, that was the deal !"

Jonathan shakes his head. "I'm afraid the contract terms just changed. I'll turn the power back on when I'll feel like it."

"You can't do that ! People are dying out there !" Q yells.

"I don't care !" Jonathan yells too, rising from his seat, closing the distance between Q and him in two long steps. "I am dead too remember ? Dead because of you ! Dead because England felt like I would disturb you from your oh so important work as MI6 quartermaster ! Dead because it was convenient for Her Majesty !"

"The civilians out there who are dying because of you have nothing to do with it !"

Jonathan has a dark smile. " Too bad, England never considered the outcome of her actions ... there's a price to pay when you betray your own people and they are paying it."

Q blinks, confused. Jonathan was rough, hated to lose. But he was never that much of a sociopathic asshole.

"You're insane." He says softly, taking one step back from his ex lover.

"Thanks to who ?" Jonathan spits. "Do you know how hurt and betrayed I was when you did not look out for me? Do you know how hard it is to see the love of your life caring more about his work than me ?"

"What are you talking about ? You were dead Jonathan ! DEAD! I was mourning, I ... I...."

"You betrayed me big time.... Q."

"How ? By accepting a job ?" Q yells.

"By not looking after me. By not caring enough to see the signs!"

"WHAT BLOODY SIGNS ??"

Q is really furious now. Nothing makes sense. His emotions threaten to drown him. He's way past the point of panic or anything that he can name.

"You left a note, saying it was all my fault ! You disappeared on a meaningful day just to hurt me!" It hits him as he says it and he feels his knees get weak. It was a sign, a bloody sign that something was wrong because Jonathan had a thing for birthdays. It was the only time when he allowed himself to be free of everything. Killing himself on Q's birthday always had been a sign that Q missed.

"I left signs that this was all a scam. I left signs only for you to see them and find me. And you did not."

Q doesn't know if it's sweat or tears that rolls down his face. For a minute, Jonathan looks like his old self again. Hurt, passionate, loving. And it hurts. It hurts as much as it did when Q burried him. It hurts twice as much as grieving his death because now, Q can think back to all the clues Jonathan left, and how betrayed he must have been.

"I'm sorry... I was... I was too sad, too hurt to function..."

"That's what I believed. But you got over it. You traded your name for a letter, you traded our life together for a bloody job, then you traded me for James Bond."

Q feels something tighen in his chest. It's fear this time as Jonathan steps closer to him, his face a beautiful and cold mask.

"I willingly stepped away, disappeared as MI6 asked. I waited for you Adrien, and you never cared enough to come."

Q is shaking, and this time it's clearly tears that rolls down his cheeks. He hugs himself , trying to think of something to say but nothing comes. His mind is blank.

"There's a price to pay for everything my love. And it's time for you and for England to settle your debts."

##

 

"You lost him." Bond says darkly. He doesn't need any confirmation. He knew this would happen no matter how many tech they put on Q;

"As expected." M says. "Bond, I ask you not to do anything stupid, I know how much you care about Q but..."

"As long as I'm on duty, sir, I'm not doing anything without a direct order." It doesn't seem hard for him to tell it, and it's truly not. Because he doesn't think a single word he says. He's not even impatient or bouncy or whatever. He waits for the right time like a predator.

M nods.

They wait. Without coffee or tea because every electrical device is deprived of power.

They wait in the dimly lit office of Q in Q branch, people talk around them, Monneypenny fidgets on her seat.

They wait untill the sun sets then M sighs.

"If power is not back on now, it won't come back...Monneypenny, I need to talk to the prime minister."

She nods and leaves, returning quickly with an official phone that she hands to M.

Bond doesn't listen to the conversation. The wait is over.

"Double oh seven, you country needs you."

He nods.

##

 

"So, what will you do ?" Q asks.

Jonathan has a coy smile that makes the boffin shiver. "What do you think ?"

"You want revenge. You want to get back at me and make me suffer as much as you did. Probably even more." Q hopes his voice is cold and devoid of emotion but he can't help the tremor that escape him. "You want to break me the same way I broke you."

Jonathan nods. "And for the sake of England, I hope you're less resilient than I think you'll be, because the power will only be back on when you'll be truly destroyed."

"Shall we proceed?"

Q could give himself a medal for his behaviour. He closes his eyes, waiting for whatever is to come and think of James.

_(What would James bond do ?)_

_(I'll live as long as I can.)_

_(Find me)_

_(Please, find me !)_

And the pain comes.

##

 

Bond is a clever man. He knows how Q works, how his mind wanders sometimes, how it helps the boffin invent stuff or solve problems. He knows that Q has a hard time getting rid of stuff and that he religiously keeps track of everytthig in his life in little notebooks. There's a box full of them in the boffin's flat and that's where Bond starts.

Q's code is hard to decrypt even with all the basic keys Q managed to teach him over the months they spent together. It's mostly to do lists, lists of stuff, weekly planners, quotes and ideas, mostly written in foreign symbols or doodles.

And then, two years back, a new handwriting that Bond could have missed if his eyes weren't trained to track this kind of things.

It's another code, one that Bond knew long before he met Q and the agent smiles. For a genius, Q can be incredibly oblivious sometimes. There's a gap in the entries at this point of the notebook. Five weeks withut anything written on it then just one big "End" hastily drawn across a double page. Then Q started a whole new notebook like a whole new life. This is how he missed Jonathan's clue. He just never saw it.

Bond gets back to the code Jonathan left his lover. It's a Dewey code like the ones they use in libraries and it takes Bond a little time to find the right book in Q's shelves. And then the hunt begins.

 

##

Q was never trained to resist torture. And Jonathan was never trained to inflict it. But what they lacked in training, they made up for it in rage and stubborness.

Punches were one things. Mostly out of spit coming form Jonathan, aimed to hurt but mostly to relieve his rage and frustration. Q did not even try to defend himself, that would come later.

Sleep deprivation came next and Q almost smiled (would have done it if every fiber of his face wasn't in pain). This was like rule N°2 of the torture handbook. Then came repetition.

There was a clock on the wall and Q knew it's mechanism was twisted to make the time seem to fly. He counted the seconds and the minutes were not 60 seconds long. Sometimes 10, sometimes 30 without a pattern. This was meant to make him lose track of time.

It worked.

Then Q fought back, trying to escape.

This was not his smartest move.

He did not see the gun in Jonathan's hand, only heard the gunshot then pain radiated from his knee. Blood soaked his pants. The adrenaline dulled the pain but he almost fainted when he tried to raise on his injuried leg. Jonahan smiled.

"Should have started here."

He left.

Time passed.

Q tried to patch himself, a lame attempt that left him hissing in pain, sweating and mostly covered in his own blood.

Fear made the rest of the work, making him a sobbing mess on the floor.

The litany was back, never left him since he saw Jonathan the first time.

Panic rushed through him. He felt like passing out and Jonathan came back with a cute smile and a knife.

Then, more pain.

##

No one gave him gadgets or instructions or any file.

No one gave him any pointer apart from " bring back Q and the electricity."

And it's fine by Bond. The Walter is a comforting weight in his holster. He grips the wheel of a car borrowed from Q branch that can't go fast enough for him.

He has a location and he's angry.

##

_(It hurts, it hurts)_

_(please make it stop)_

Jonathan's actions are rushed, chaotics and through the pain that blinds him, it takes Q quite some time to notice it. Jonathan knows his time is ticking.

He probably has another safe place to hide in case this one gets compromised, but Q can't be moved now. Not with a bullet in his knee. So Jonathan has to break him fast. And he does it without style or method. It makes the boffin smile inwardly. James is on his way and Jonathan knows it.

Q is tied to a chair now, his leg hurt, his entire being hurt. He can't feel his hands tied behind his back but he can sense Jonathan's breath on his neck.

Q is long past words and it takes him a little time to process when he feels Jonathan grab his hand.

"What are you..." He yells in pain as the first knuckle breaks on Jonathan's firm grip. Tears fall down his face and he jerks on the chair, reactivating the pain in his knee.

Then another finger and Q's mind is clear for a second and he understands what Jonathan is trying to do.

"No ..." He croaks in a weak voice. " Please no ..."

He can feel Jonathan smiling behind him.

"Told you I would break you."

Another finger and Q yells again.

##

Bond is trained to remember things, but he can't for the life of him recall the hours it tooks him to get to the safehouse where Q is kept. He could, if circumstances really needed it, tell about the traps and how odd it was to see no guards outside of the safehouse that turned out to be an old bunker.

He recalls the explosion though...

 

##

_(It hurts!)_

_(IT HURTS!)_

_(Please make it stop !)_

_(Please!)_

Jonathan is purposely, slowly and carefully breaking every one of Q fingers.

Ten is an awful lot. Q wishes he was born with only one hand, or no hand, or no limbs, or not even being born at all.

Somewhere in all this pain, he should have fainted.

He did not and he curently hates his body for not betraying him at the most crucial moment.

Nothing exists outside of pain and the litany in his head. Which is mostly pain.

And the constant reminder that, should he survive this hell, he won't be able to go near a computer for ... months, years... ever ? The only thing he's good at is being taken away from him, one finger at a time.

**

_He closes his eyes, listen to the silence of the flat, the soft breathing of his...lover, and once again it strikes him how much he likes this man. How much he loves him. He falls asleep thinking that it's good._

**

A slap across the face wakes him up.

"We're far from done here."

"What's next ? I lost count at six fingers."

A medal, he deserves a bloody medal to even be able to talk right now. But it sounded wittier in his head.

Jonathan smiles.

"Let's take a break and talk about your heart."

Q knows the basics of torture and a few things James taught him. Along those things are the one he never said out loud. That every man has a weakness, something that could give anyone with the right piece of intel a big leverage on them.

And that weakness is most times, a person.

Q smiles weakly. His own weakness is on his way and can single andedly save the world.

Jonathan smiles wickedly.

He knows, he came prepared.

 

**

_Why is there a kitty litter in your worksop?"_

_"Because sometimes I bring the cats heres and I'd rather have them piss on a litter than on a 3 million pounds prototype. After all, it is your job to destroy my most expensive tech!"_

_"touché."_

**

The explosion took Bond by surprise. His hears are ringing, his lungs are burning, he can't open his eyes, can't breathe, he hurts everywhere.

He smiles inwardly. It's another ... whatever day it is now for him. He is on a mission.

He has to rescue Q.

He can hear his posh voice reminding him that, in videogames, the more oponents you find, the closer you are to your goal.

He's close, and he needs to kill someone.

Then all hell breaks loose.

 

##

Q hears the explosions through his fog of confused pain. His heart drops in his chest and fear rushes over him once again. His hands are tightly secured behind his back but he jerked hard enough at the noise that he hurt his shoulders and revigorated the pain in his broken fingers.

He hisses but it's not because of the excruciating pain. He waits, he hopes. Something, anything. A sign that James is still alive after the second explosion. A footstep, a gunshot anything.

_(James !)_

_(Please !)_

Nothing comes.

Jonathan crouches in front of him untill they are at eye level. His face is stern, emotionless, an executioner and nothing more. Q's inside are boiling from fear and anger.

"You ... Bloody ..." Nothing comes in his mind. No insult is strong enough, not threat is good enough.. Q simply hopes that all of his hatred is showing on his face.

"I'd ask how does it feel to loose the one you love ... but I already know..."

_(Please... James !)_

_(What would James do ?)_

Q grits his teeth.

"You'll pay for that, I swear !"

The third explosion takes both of them by surprise, they both jerk at the same time and the ropes that keeps Q on his chair cuts on his wrists, making him yell from pain. Jonathan smiles.

"Hard to kill I see...You found yourself a challenging man Adrien, I give you that."

_(What would James do ?)_

_(What would ...)_

And then, something changes. It's not something in the air, Jonathan is standing again, seems puzzled for a moment and something changes in Q.

He sees the weak spot. He sees the flaw in Jonathan's masterplan, he knows what James would do.

_(James !)_

"I swore not to die." He says through gritted teeth.

"What ?" Jonathan seems ... surprised? Maybe enven shocked ?

Q doesn't care. If James is alive, this is what he has to do before he enters the room. And if James is dead well...

Q has nothing left to lose anyway.

"He made me swore not to die before he comes to rescue me."

"What a lovely damsel in distress you make ..." Jonathan sasses him.

Q's mind is clear, devoid of anything else than focus and discipline.

_(Please God, now would be the right moment to help me !)_

Q jerks one more time, on his own volition, violently pulls his right hand out of the ropes that binds him. His thumb is broken on the first knuckle, it hurts like nothing before, he's dizzy from the pain but his hand jerks free of his back and in the same move he rises to his feet. Quick enough that he doesn't notice the pain on his knee. All his being is focused on his right hand and the move he makes toward Jonathan's holster.

But he's too weak, too slow and Jonathan quickly slides out of reach, gun already in hand.

"Shouldn't have done that Adrien !"

He points the gun at Q's head and the boffin falls into a moaning ball on the floor. He's dizzy, he's hurt, his hands don't move, his knee won't support him ... he tried and he failed. He's going to die.

Gunshots.

Four of them.

He waits for the pain but nothing more comes.

"Q !"

His heart jump in his chest. He can't open his eyes ( when did he close them?). He can't move. His heart is about to explode when a hand lays on his shoulder.

"It's over."

Q doesn't know if James is talking to him or to Jonathan, but he couldn't care less. Nothing in the world could be harder than to raise on his feet once again, to grip James' hand and take the gun from him. He's beyond screaming, his vision is blurry, he doesn't know if what he feels is shivers or tremor, he's going to puke.

He pulls the trigger.

It's messy.

The worst shot of his life.

But you can't miss with a big gun whose aim has been ehanced by Q branch. Not when Q himself ran the tests.

And this time, it's over.

He doesn't have to look to know that Jonathan is dead. That he killed the love of his life with dismantled fingers and a gun that James willingly let him get.

"I think I'll need this double oh licence to kill now..." Q says softly.

It's over.

Bond's arms are aroud him, grounding him when finally, finally, his body betrays him and he faints.

It's over.

 

 


End file.
